Tie
by Azara-Rayne18
Summary: Blaine Anderson has always been a responsible kid. Joe Anderson is shocked and upset to find that Blaine is having sex with his new boyfriend behind the locked door of his room. But it soon becomes much more sinister. Kurt/Blaine. Implied rape, non-con.
1. Good Father

Joe Anderson finally felt like he was being a good father.

Just last week, he'd worked up the courage to talk to his son about his sexuality. And as hard as it was to admit that his Blainey-boy was growing up, at least they were on the same page about the rate at which he was growing.

Joe had heaved a massive sigh of relief when Blaine told him that he and Kurt weren't ready to take the next step in their relationship. Making out was hard enough to think about without adding the possibility of sex to his tortured thoughts. It wasn't that he was homophobic, though Blaine still harbored some doubts about his ability to accept Blaine being gay.

Honestly, it wasn't even the thought of Blaine with another guy that set his teeth on edge. It was just… Blaine wasn't old enough to have sex with anyone. The world may see him as a seventeen year old boy, but Joe still saw him as the five year old who cried when he found out hand sanitizer killed 99.9% of all germs – "But, Daddy, what'll happen to all the baby germs? It won't kill baby germs, right?" – the eight year old who bounced around the house singing to Destiny's Child while Joe tried to get work done, the twelve year old who sang Joe back to sleep when he had nightmares about some homophobes killing his now clearly gay son. Joe wasn't sure Blaine even knew what he was at the time, but Joe could see it. And it terrified him.

So yeah, the thought of Blaine – tiny, sweet, compassionate Blaine – having sex with some teenage stud muffin was a little hard to swallow. The word 'swallow' conjured a whole new image in Joe's mind, one he fought to get rid of. It was alright. Blaine wasn't having sex any time soon. Joe sighed as the image of Blaine on his knees in front of some punk went away.

And then he saw it.

A Dalton tie, the kind Blaine put around his neck every day before he went to school. But this tie wasn't hanging innocently around Blaine's neck. It was hanging, dark and sinister, around the doorknob to Blaine's room.

Joe's mind slammed to a stop. Instantly, all the horrible images came back. Kurt Hummel, that little hussy, taking advantage of his precious, innocent boy. Or maybe Blaine didn't know what a tie on a doorknob meant? Maybe Blaine just wanted to be alone with Kurt, to make out or set up a duet together or talk. They were probably just talking. Just talking, please…

Joe tried the doorknob. The tie was silky and slick under his fingers, the cool fabric contrasting with the panicked heat in his chest. The door was locked. And now that he was so close, Joe could hear what was going on. The muffled, masculine grunting was unmistakable, as unmistakable as the sound of Blaine's headboard hitting his wall.

Rage pooled in Joe's chest, and before he knew it, he was knocking on the door. "Blaine? What the hell is going on?" There was no answer, just a particularly loud grunt from the boys inside the room. "Blaine, open this door, young man! I know what's going on, and I have to say, I am so disappointed in you, Blaine." Joe took a moment to pause, breathing almost as heavily as the boys were.

'Okay, Joe, think. WWBHD? What would Burt Hummel do?' Blaine's boyfriend's father was one of Joe's particular heroes. Well, he wouldn't be pounding on Kurt's door screaming like a mad man, that was for sure. No, he'd probably let the boys have their moment and address it when they were done.

"Alright, then, boys," Joe said, "I'll let you have your fun. But I want you downstairs as soon as you're finished, you understand me? Blaine, you and I are going to have a serious talk about this."

Blaine's muffled screams of ecstasy were his only answer.

Joe picked a chair from his dining room and set it at the foot of the stairs. There weren't any exits between him and Blaine's room. The boys were going to have to explain themselves sooner or later.

What hurt the most wasn't Blaine having sex. It was Blaine lying to him about it. Did he really not trust him at all? Joe knew that his relationship with his son wasn't perfect, but Blaine had never been a liar. There was no way to excuse away what he'd heard; his son was definitely no longer a virgin. So why hadn't he talked to him about this?

It was nearly twenty minutes of agonized wondering before Blaine's bedroom door creaked open.

Joe sat up straight in his chair, preparing the rant he had been coming up with the last twenty minutes. How Kurt and Blaine were good boys, but they should have waited until they were older or more committed or until Blaine had talked to him about it, at least. Did they use protection? Were either of them pressured into anything? Did Kurt's dad know what was going on?

He expected Blaine to appear first, Kurt close behind him, both boy's cheeks stained crimson with shame, but eyes bright with joy and love. Joe thought back to his first time, the excitement of being with the girl he loved for the first time, and felt his heart soften. Blaine was a good boy. He had waited for someone he was in love with. He may not have been completely honest with Joe, but their relationship was still tentative at best, so it was understandable that he wouldn't feel comfortable talking about it with him.

He had just about eliminated his rage when the figure appeared at the top of the stairs. It only took looking at the boy's face for Joe's anger to jump up to twice what it had been before. The boy wasn't what he had been expecting. It wasn't Blaine at the top of those stairs. It wasn't even Kurt. The smug face was familiar, though, the blue eyes proud and cold beneath shaggy blonde hair.

"Hello, Mr. Anderson," He said casually, his voice grating on Joe even more than his face.

"Hello, Jeremiah."


	2. It Hurts

Joe stared coldly at the boy in front of him. He hated Jeremiah, from the roots of his ratty blonde hair to the simpering upward curve of his lips. Jeremiah, that dead-beat 24 year old who took Blaine out to coffee just so he could make out with him in the back of his car, who broke his heart just before Valentine's Day. Joe only had to think back to the hour he spent outside Blaine's door listening to his son cry to justify every ounce of anger he felt towards Jeremiah.

"Where is my son?" He demanded. Blaine hadn't shown up yet.

"He's recovering," Jeremiah said, carefully straightening his shirt as he redid the buttons. "It was quite a wild ride we had there. Blaine's a bit of a slut."

"Don't you dare talk about him like that," Joe growled.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," Jeremiah said without an ounce of apology. "I figured you could already hear what we were doing and gathered as much yourself. I tend to lose my head after a couple of good rounds with a first-timer."

Joe winced.

"Haven't you done enough to Blaine?" Joe said. "You used him, you broke his heart, and now you waltz in here and take his virginity? He has a boyfriend! What's Kurt going to do when he finds out about this?"

"He didn't mention a boyfriend." Jeremiah shrugged. "But then again, he was pretty desperate for me. What teenage hormones will do to you, I guess. Listen, Mr. Anderson, we both know what kind of guy I am. Blaine wanted it, I gave it to him. I'm not going to apologize for that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get going. It looks like you need to have a talk with your boy."

He had one thing right.

"BLAINE!" Joe yelled, barely even listening as Jeremiah's car peeled out of his driveway. "You get down here right now, young man!" Silence. Fine, then. Blaine was going to hear this lecture whether he wanted to or not. Joe began walking up the stairs, shouting as he went up. "I can't believe you would do something like this, Blaine. Do you think Jeremiah cared about you? He was just down here calling you a slut! That's the boy you chose to give your virginity to? What about Kurt? You do realize that you cheated on him just now? I don't know if he'll even stay with you once he finds out about this. I have never been so angry with you, Blaine, or so disappointed. What on earth where you thinking?"

Joe furiously jiggled the handle of Blaine's door which was still locked and covered by that tie. This wasn't like Blaine. Joe's son was a blurter; Blaine should be running at him with a slew of 'I'm sorry,' pouring out of his mouth by now. Joe stood at the door, listening for Blaine's answer. There was only one sound coming from Blaine's room, so muffled it was barely audible. Joe's heart dropped into his boots.

Blaine was still screaming.

"Blaine? Blaine, what's going on? Are you hurt? Open the door. Blaine, can you hear me?" There was a high, keening scream that dissolved into sobs and then choking. "Blaine! Are you okay? Please, son, just unlock the door and we'll figure this out, I promise. Blaine! Blaine!"

The screaming stopped.

The silence that followed lasted only a moment, broken by the sound of Joe kicking the door down. Joe didn't pause to study the room he'd just walked into, his eyes falling instantly on his son. Blaine was on the bed, completely naked, arms held tight to his side by lengths of rope. His ankles were bound to the posts of his bed, his hips held up by a small stack of pillows. One of Blaine's ankles was bleeding, the lines of red dripping onto the sheets below him. The pillows underneath his hips were spotted with blood from between his legs. Blaine's face was no better, his swollen lips stretched wide around a gag in his mouth, his cheeks tear-stained and far too pale. Blaine's whole face was a sort of pale grey, his eyes closed, and the beginnings of a bruise forming over one eye.

"Blaine?" Joe's voice was weak, his knees trembling so badly he could barely stagger over to where his son lay limp on his bed. "Blaine, wake up, please." Blaine didn't move, and Joe realized with a trace of panic that between the gag in his mouth and the tears and mucus filling his nose, Blaine could barely breathe.

Joe's shaking fingers set to work at the knot behind Blaine's head, his mouth spilling out apologies and reassurances, "Everything's going to be okay, Blaine. I've got you, I've got you, and I promise no one is going to hurt you anymore. See, the gag's almost out." Blaine let out a small shriek when Joe removed the gag. It was five inches long, and set into a shape that sent chills up Joe's spine. "It's out. The gag's out. Now I need you to breathe, baby boy. Come on, Blaine, breathe."

Blaine took several choking, painful breaths, his eyelashes fluttering weakly, "Daddy?"

"Everything is going to be okay," Joe promised. Blaine squirmed, tugging his ankles against their ties. The cuts around one ankle reopened, fresh dots of blood running down his leg. "No, no, Blaine. Don't fight, you don't have to. Daddy's going to get you out, just wait a minute." Joe ran to Blaine's desk, desperately searching for a pair of scissors. Blaine curled in on himself in the bed, moaning in pain and fear. "Here, I found the scissors. I've got you. I've got you, I'm sorry, just, please, Blaine…"

Joe finally got his son free, wrapping Blaine in his sheets and pulling the boy into his arms. Joe was a much bigger guy than his son, and he was never more grateful for that fact. Joe ran down the stairs with his boy, trying to ignore the tears soaking though his lapel and the sticky warmth on his forearm from between Blaine's legs.

"It hurts," Blaine whispered while Joe started the car. Joe glanced worriedly at his son. The boy was only half conscious, confused and terrified. He pulled at his seat belt, the dark eyes turned on to his father. "Why are you tying me up?"

Joe pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator, ignoring the police sirens that started up behind him, "I'm not tying you up, baby boy. It's just a seat belt. We're going to the hospital."

"He tied me up," Blaine said, babbling quietly, "He tied me on my bed and shoved things down my throat and inside me. It hurt."

"I know, baby." Joe tried to blink away the tears before they blocked his view of the road.

Blaine sobbed, "I wanted Kurt to be my first."

"I know. I'm so sorry. But everything's going to be okay. We're almost to the hospital, do you see it? Blaine, stay with me."

Joe's wheels screeched against the pavement as he stopped. The officers fell silent as they watched the man who'd driven like something possessed run to the other side of his car and pick up the hysterical boy draped in bloody sheets. Blaine wrapped his arms around Joe's neck, setting his head against the other man's shoulder and sobbing quietly. He passed out before Joe hit the doors.

"Someone help me! Please, he's hurt, somebody help me!" Joe yelled, clutching Blaine's limp body. Doctors and nurses swarmed around him, pulling Blaine from his arms and onto a stretcher. Joe's baby was ashen faced and silent. Joe wrapped his arms around himself, watching as they took his baby away from him.

Joe overheard one of the police officers whispering to a doctor, "You're gonna want to run a rape kit on this one." And it finally hit him. Jeremiah. The ties. The muffled screaming. Joe calling through the door that he'd let them have their fun. Going downstairs and waiting for Jeremiah to finish.

He had sat by and listened as his son was raped.


	3. Fear

"Kurt Hummel speaking."

Joe winced, Kurt's bright, happy voice fraying on already overworked nerves. He had gone through so many emotions in the last few hours; anger, frustration, hurt, horror, panic, guilt, devastation. He was pretty certain adding happiness to the list would unhinge him completely.

"Kurt?" The word came out raspy, and Joe shrank away from the sheer misery in his own voice.

"What's wrong? Who is this?"

"Ummm… K-kurt, this is… this is Joe Anderson speaking. B-B-Blaine's dad? Um, I'm calling from the hospital, and I just wanted you to know that, um…"

"Is Blaine okay?"

"H-he should be fine, it's just, something happened today and I wanted to let you know because… because Blaine…" The words were sticking in Joe's throat, each one coming harder than the last. Six words played against the back of his head, choking him until he had to let them out. "Could you come wait with me?"

Joe didn't know Blaine's boyfriend very well. He'd had him over for dinner a couple of times and seen him perform with Blaine and the Warblers before he had transferred back to his previous school. Kurt seemed like a polite, modest, well-groomed boy with a sharp sense of humor. Joe liked him, but had been saving judgment until he got to know the boy better.

But when Kurt stepped off of the elevator an hour later, his precious clothing rumpled and a look of panic on his face as he bolted towards Joe's seat in the waiting room, Joe decided that this boy was absolutely the one for his Blaine.

"Is he okay?" Kurt asked, skidding to a stop in front of him, "What happened?"

"Kurt…" Joe began, and then he took a deep breath, "Kurt, you should sit down."

Kurt dropped into his seat quickly, staring at Joe with desperate eyes. "Please, Mr. Anderson, just tell me what happened."

"I - " Joe took a deep breath through a clogged airway, "I came home this afternoon and Blaine was… he couldn't breathe and he was naked… he was so scared… I, um." Joe sobbed once, quickly, to clear his throat, and tossed out the truth in words that tore him up from the inside out. "Someone raped Blaine today."

Kurt gasped, tears pooling in his eyes, "Do you know who it was?"

"Jeremiah? I don't remember his last name, but he worked at a gap?" It was the same thing he'd told the police, and it felt woefully inadequate. But the way Kurt's face went pale at the name, the way his lips tightened in rage, told Joe that their feelings about Jeremiah were exactly the same.

"Where's Blaine?" Kurt asked, his eyes darting around the room as if Blaine would appear in front of them.

"I don't know. The doctors took him away from me." Joe shifted, still uncomfortable with the emptiness in his arms where his son should be. It was alleviated somewhat by the pale hand that slipped into his own.

"I'm sure they're doing everything they can," Kurt whispered. Joe looked away, his throat tightening as tears began spilling down his cheeks.

"He was so scared…"

And his arms were filled by an equally weepy teenage boy. He held onto the boy as tightly as he could, trying to imagine that this was Blaine in his arms, shaken but okay. But it was no use. Kurt was too tall and thin, and he smelled like cologne instead of blood and he was too dry in Joe's arms. But he was close enough, and Joe sobbed with him until the doctor walked up to them.

"Joseph Anderson?" The doctor was a female, tall, with close cropped red hair and a deep, soothing type of voice.

Joe and Kurt pulled themselves apart, Joe once again mourning the emptiness in his arms. "Where's Blaine? Is he alright, is he asking for me?"

"Your son is currently unconscious. We had to sedate him in order to address his injuries. The anesthetic should wear off in a couple of hours."

"Can we see him?" Kurt spoke from behind Joe, his voice quiet and begging. The doctor looked over at Joe, questioning, and Joe nodded fiercely. Kurt had every right to see his boyfriend.

"Come with me," The doctor turned on her heel and Kurt and Joe followed her through the double doors and past various recovery rooms. "There are a few things you need to know before you see him. Blaine suffered multiple rape-related injuries. There's bruising along his arms and chest where he tried to escape restraints, more bruising on his hips where his attacker was holding them still. He also suffered tearing on the inside of his body. Do you understand what I'm saying so far?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, we've stitched up the cuts and stopped the bleeding, so, barring infection, Blaine should be fine physically. We advise seeing a psychiatric professional to address the emotional ramifications of what's happened. Rape is never an easy thing for someone to get past, especially for a young boy. It would have been a deeply traumatic event, incredibly painful. Blaine may lash out physically, he may break down, he may be terrified of any man, even his own father. In order to help Blaine, I'll have to ask both of you to keep physical contact with him to a minimum. Always be calm and purposeful when reaching out to touch him. Give him plenty of time to say no, and if he doesn't want to be touched, don't push him. Keep all accepted touching light and completely non-sexual. Anyone who breaks these rules will be escorted out of the room for Blaine's safety. Do you understand these rules as I've described them?"

"Yes."

"Good," She opened the door to Blaine's room and walked away.

Both men crept inside, terrified of what they would find. Joe's eyes instantly locked on his son, the same way they had in his bedroom at home, as if gravity had somehow conspired to make Blaine the center of his universe. His boy was asleep, his face still pale and creased with unconscious pain. Kurt shifted behind him, caught between running to Blaine and giving him the space he needed. Joe felt the same way. The urge to hold his baby was all-encompassing, but it fought with the urge to stand over his son and forbid anyone to touch him. Blaine looked like a china doll, perfect and delicate and too pale.

Eventually Joe settled for a compromise, pulling a chair to his son's bedside and carefully, oh so carefully, reaching out to touch his hairline. Joe played with the messy curls that lay against Blaine's warm skin. Kurt followed his example, silently pulling a chair next to his and gently taking Blaine's hand, drawing tiny circles on the palm, carefully avoiding the purple bruising on the wrist.

"It's okay," Joe whispered, "Daddy's here. Daddy's got you. Everything's going to be okay." Joe's fingers gently traced his son's face, following the swell of his cheek to his jaw and back up again, trying to get through how sorry he was, how much he loved him, how much he wished he had stopped what was happening the moment he came home.

Kurt stood up reluctantly about an hour later. "My dad says I have to be home."

"Don't tell him what happened yet." Joe said, not stopping his silent memorization of his child's face. "I don't know who Blaine will want to know when he wakes up. Tell him something else if he needs to know. Tell him that Blaine fell down some stairs or something."

Kurt nodded and walked away, placing a last chaste kiss against the back of Blaine's hand and a whispered, "I'll come back tomorrow," before he left. Joe barely noticed him leave.

It was forty minutes later when Joe's tired fingers found the bruise around the edge of Blaine's eye. Blaine moved for the first time, squirming away from Joe's fingers with a wince. Joe dropped Blaine's face and instantly scooted away, watching in rapt attention as his son opened his eyes.

"Blaine?" He whispered, scooting forward at the sight of his son's clear hazel eyes. Blaine stared at him, eyes wide and fearful. Joe's heart broke. "Blaine, are you okay, son?" Blaine stared right at him and spoke for the first time, asking a question that sent ice right through Joe's broken heart.

"Are you still mad at me?"


	4. Flashback

"No." Joe stared at his son, taking in the heartbroken look on his face. "No, no, no, no, no. Blaine, I am not mad at you. I -" Joe reached out to take his son's face in his hands, but Blaine flinched back.

"Please don't touch me," Blaine whispered.

Joe's hands dropped to his lap and twisted around each other, curling into a tight ball. "I'm sorry."

Blaine's face crumpled, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Daddy…"

"Shhhh," Joe leaned forward, digging his nails into his palm. Having to watch his son in so much pain, not even being able to touch him… it was torture. "Shhhh, look at me. Blaine, this is not your fault."

"I asked him to stop," Blaine said. His brow was furrowed, his eyes locked on his father's shoulder. "I told him I didn't want to, but he must not have heard me. Maybe if I'd asked a little louder…" Blaine nodded to himself, curling even further into the bed.

"Blaine, stop it. This isn't your fault, baby boy. You didn't do anything wrong."

Blaine looked up at him, and the deadness in his son's eyes stopped Joe's heart. "You were yelling at me. You said you were disappointed."

"I was wrong. I'm sorry," Joe said.

"I didn't want to," Blaine said solemnly. He was pouting, full lip trembling. His lips were darker than usual. Bruised. Joe's eyes narrowed.

"I know," Joe said.

Blaine stretched slowly, pressing his face against his pillow. His arms were wrapped tight around his chest; he was trying so hard to protect himself. It wasn't working. "Are you sure you aren't mad at me? You sounded mad."

"I promise, baby boy, I'm not mad. I didn't know what was happening. I thought you were with Kurt…" Joe trailed off at the look on his boy's face.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered. The tears were coming faster now. "Where is he? Why isn't he here? Is he mad at me?"

"No, Blaine, no," Joe said. He reached out half-way to Blaine's face before his son flinched violently and he remembered. "No. Kurt was here with you, while you were asleep. He wanted to stay, but his dad needed him to come home…"

"I want Kurt," Blaine said.

"He'll be back tomorrow. Listen to me, Blaine. Nobody is mad at you. I promise. Nobody blames you for what happened." Joe paused, trying to decide how to phrase the next question. Blaine was so fragile right now, but he needed to know. "What did happen, Blaine?"

Blaine's eyes were huge and luminous in the overhead light, "What do you mean?"

And that was about the moment that they walked in. A small group of two men and a woman in bright police uniforms, followed by Blaine's doctor. She didn't look happy, her red hair even messier than it had been before. "He needs to rest, the trauma this boy has been through - "

"Is exactly the reason we're here. Now, if you really care about your patient, you'll let us do our job," The woman said, before turning cold blue eyes on Joe. She was middle aged, with a square face and stringy brown hair. Her gaze was intense, "Joseph Anderson?"

Joe stood, providing a sharp barrier between these people and his son, "Yes?"

"I'm Officer Payne; this is Officer Jones and Officer Perotta. We've been assigned to your son's case, and, with your permission, we'd like to ask him a few questions."

Joe looked over his shoulder at his son, "Is that okay with you, baby boy?"

Blaine's face was white. He looked from person to person, sinking further into the bed. "She can ask me."

Officer Payne stepped forward, taking a seat by the side of Blaine's bed, "Okay, Blaine. I want to ask you a few questions about how you got hurt, and who did that to you. I need you to be as honest as possible with me. Can you do that?"

Blaine nodded slowly.

"Can you tell me the name of the person who did this to you?" She asked gently.

"J-Jeremiah. Jeremiah Wilson." Blaine's breathing quickened at the name, his eyes growing even larger and his skin paler. His hands twitched, as if he was searching for something. Blaine pressed his palms together. "He used to work at the GAP at the North Hills Mall."

"Okay," Payne said. Officer Perotta was writing down the information. "Can you tell me what Jeremiah did to you?"

Blaine shook his head, "I don't want to talk about that." His breathing was getting faster, too fast.

"Blaine?" Payne said quickly, "Blaine, you need to calm down. You don't have to talk to us about this right now; we'll go and arrest Jeremiah on the doctor's report and your father's information. You did a good job, Blaine." But Blaine didn't seem to hear her anymore.

"I can't be here right now," He said quietly.

Blaine stood up, pulling all of the sensors off of his body. Machines beeped frantically. Blaine whimpered as he ripped the IV line out of his arm, and lunged for the door. Officer Jones stepped forward. He was a huge man, almost twice Blaine's size. Blaine stopped stock still and stared at him, pale and trembling.

"Please," Blaine whispered.

"This is ridiculous. Kid, you need to stay in bed." And before Joe could yell at the man to leave his son alone, the officer had one meaty hand around Blaine's forearm. It was the first time someone had touched Blaine since he regained consciousness. Blaine froze and stared down at the hand around his arm, all the blood draining from his face. Officer Jones squeezed.

Blaine started screaming.

"What on Earth have you done?" The doctor screamed, rushing through the door. "I told you he wouldn't be able to handle this… Let go of him, you ignorant brute!"

"He was trying to leave," Officer Jones grunted, but he let go of Blaine. Blaine fell to the ground, shrieking and writhing as if he were being burned. Joe hovered around his son, wishing he could do something, anything to help.

"What's wrong with him?" Joe asked desperately.

"He's been thrown into a flashback," The doctor said impatiently, her fingers flying along the IV line, hooking up a new bag, "And from his breathing patterns, he's suffering a panic attack. We need to get him sedated before he hurts himself." Some nurses had run in behind her, fluttering around like large, sterile insects. And through it all, Blaine was screaming.

"Stop! Stop, please, I'll do anything, get off of me. Stop! Get off of me, get out of me! It hurts, oh, please, stop. Daddy! Daddy, he's hurting me, please make him stop! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Get out of me, please…" Blaine was sobbing, his wrists straining against invisible bonds at his sides. He was feebly kicking at the air, his movements growing even more sluggish as the needle slid back into his vein.

"We need to get him back on the bed," The doctor said. Joe ran forward, gently putting his arms beneath his son's body and lifting him into bed. The nurses stepped away; Officer Perotta was trying to apologize on behalf of the police department while Payne was reprimanding Jones outside. The doctor was explaining how the sedative worked, saying Blaine would still be trapped in the memory of what had happened to him, but the drug should numb the worst of it until it passed.

"Please, just leave," Joe begged. The officer and nurses complied, leaving him alone with his son. The noise continued just outside the door, but Joe only had ears for Blaine. His son was sobbing weakly, teetering on the edge of consciousness.

"Daddy… Please… Help me…"


	5. Reliving

_"Mmmhmmm," Jeremiah moaned low in his throat as he dipped down to capture the boy underneath him again. His hands roamed, snaking over a toned stomach and firm, soft hips to the button of faded slacks…._

_"Um…" Blaine bit his lip as he moved away, huge dark eyes studying Jeremiah's face._

_"What?" Jeremiah sat up a little, allowing Blaine to squirm out from under him. "Is there something wrong?"_

_"No! No, this is great, it's just…" Blaine drew one hand across the back of his ridiculously gelled hair. "I don't know if I'm ready, for…" He gestured vaguely to the front of his slacks._

_"It's really not that big a deal."_

_"Well, it is to me," Blaine said, "I've never really had a boyfriend before-"_

_"You still don't," Jeremiah reminded him sharply. Blaine's shoulders drooped; he looked like a kicked puppy. At this rate, there was no way Jeremiah was getting into those pants. Time to turn on the charm. "Losing your virginity isn't such a big deal, Blaine, and if you make it into some big thing, you'll never lose it. And then, when you have a boyfriend… well, who's going to want to put up with a blushing virgin? You want to give him a good ride, don't you?"_

_"I guess, but-"_

_"You wouldn't wear shoes out without breaking them in a little, would you? I'll just be breaking you in a little. Your boyfriend will thank me. And who knows, if you do a good job, I might reconsider our little arrangement." Jeremiah reached for Blaine's crotch again, only to have the other boy pull away._

_"I'm not a pair of shoes, Jeremiah," He said. "I'm a person, not some sort of object for you to test out before buying. I'm not ready for this, and I hope you can accept that."_

_Oh, why did Jeremiah pick this prude again? Blaine turned around to leave and Jeremiah suddenly remembered. Oh, yeah. That ass._

_"Blaine! Blaine, you're right, I'm sorry. I really do think you're a great guy. I just want to help you learn how to be a good boyfriend for someone, but if you aren't ready for the lesson, that's okay. Why don't we go back to what we were doing?"_

_"O-kay!" Blaine shrieked as Jeremiah grabbed him by the hips and yanked him back underneath him, leaping to take his mouth again. Blaine moaned a little, wrapping his arms around the back of Jeremiah's neck tentatively, holding tighter as Jeremiah pressed back against him._

_"Oh, you are so hot…" Jeremiah growled, grinding down on the boy beneath him. "Come on, Blaine. Are you sure you don't want more? I mean, you're a guy. You know what blue balls are like, don't you? How can you do that to another guy?" He pressed down harder, earning a whine from Blaine._

_"I… I…" Blaine's eyes were impossibly wide, equal parts aroused and terrified._

_"Come on, Blaine," Jeremiah begged._

_"I don't know…"_

_"Blaine?"_

_Jeremiah looked up at the tapping on the window of his car. He groaned, sitting up in the back seat as Blaine leaned back on his elbows, "Dad?"_

_The man standing outside was tall, taller than Jeremiah or Blaine, with thick, broad shoulders and heavy, handsome features. He was kind of hot, Jeremiah thought, in an older man kind of way. But judging from the way his face was turning red with anger, he wasn't in the mood to join in._

_"Blaine Anderson, you get out of that car right now!" The man leaned forward, jiggling on the handle of Jeremiah's car furiously._

_"Whoa!" Jeremiah shouted, "You're gonna rip the handle off my car!"_

_"I'm going to rip off more than that if you don't get out here, right now."_

_Jeremiah sighed roughly, unlocking the door so he and Blaine could tumble out. Blaine was smoothing down his blazer, trying to position it so that it covered the bulging front of his slacks. His father noticed, the crease between his eyes getting deeper. He turned angry eyes on Jeremiah. "What are you, some sort of pedophile? Getting off on fondling children in the back seat of your car?"_

_"I'm not a child, Dad!" Blaine yelled, stepping in front of Jeremiah. "I'm seventeen."_

_"Well, how old are you?" Blaine's dad asked, dark eyes still burning into Jeremiah over his son's head._

_Jeremiah drew himself up, "Twenty-four."_

_"And you thought having sex with my seventeen year old son was appropriate for someone your age? Why can't you find someone your own age to do that with?"_

_"What great advice," Jeremiah snarled, "I'll see you around, Blaine."_

_Blaine gasped quietly, "What?"_

_"Look, kid, I like you, but I just can't deal with all of your baggage. You aren't ready for any of this. When you're ready to put the toys away, you can come talk to me." Jeremiah exchanged a last glare with Blaine's father before heading back to his car._

_"But… but," Blaine watched him walk away, then rounded on his father. "What is your problem?"_

_Jeremiah got into his car, trying to find his keys and listen simultaneously to the argument brewing outside._

_"My problem? My problem is that I come down here to bring my son his homework and I found him necking in the parking lot with some adult man I don't even know - "_

_"I'm gay, Dad!" Blaine shrieked._

_"You aren't old enough to know that!" His father roared back. "Blaine, I don't care if you are gay or straight, you are not going to act on it when you're still a child…"_

_"Just leave me alone!" Blaine yelled. "I don't care if you hate me for being gay - "_

_"That is not true - "_

_"Because I hate you!" Blaine said. There was complete silence for a long moment. Jeremiah found his keys. He slid the key into the car, starting the engine and peeling out of his parking space. He couldn't hear what Blaine's dad said next, but he saw when the man grabbed his son by the arm, dragging the boy to his car. Blaine was still yelling, "Let go of me! Let go of me!"_

"Let go of me…. Let go of me…."

Blaine was sobbing in his sleep, the words tearing through Joe's heart. It was feeling less whole with each moment, and now it hung limp and shredded in his chest. The beat of a once whole heart felt wet and shattered. Joe tried to focus on the phone in his hand, tried desperately to ignore the son he couldn't help.

"April, I'm begging you…. Yes, I know your Broadway career is important, and I wouldn't ask you to step away from it, but…. He's your son, April. He's your son and somebody raped him…. He won't let me touch him. I try, but he's so terrified… Please, April. He just needs his mother. Please."

"I'm not his mother anymore," April said sadly. Joe swallowed again, his pride choking him. Under normal circumstances, he would have agreed with her. Under normal circumstances, he could never have swallowed his pride enough to apologize to April or ask her to come near Blaine. But this wasn't a normal circumstance. Blaine needed this. Joe could do anything for him.

"He doesn't have any other female relatives. He doesn't have a girlfriend. I can't even touch him for fear of setting him back and making him relive the whole damn thing. I need someone to be here for him. A woman, who can hold him and comfort him and tell him everything will be okay."

"And I gave him up because I knew I couldn't do that for him," April said. She was crying; Joe could hear her sniffling on the other end of the line. "I'm not the kind of person who makes things like this okay, Joe. I gave my baby to you because I knew you would do whatever it took to take care of him. The fact that you're calling me to apologize proves that. But I can't. I can't put myself on the line for him knowing that once this passes, I'll have to give him back again. My heart can't take it. I'm sorry, Joe."

The next thing Joe heard was the dial tone. He resisted the urge to throw the phone against the wall, an urge made worse by the fact that Blaine was reliving the worst part of his nightmare. The part where Joe left Jeremiah to finish.

"I'm sorry, Daddy! No, please don't leave me, I'm sorry! He's hurting me so bad, and I'm scared. I'm scared and I don't want this, Daddy please make him stop. Don't go away, please, don't… Ah, get off of me, stop, please. Daddy, come back, I'm sorry," Blaine's breaking suddenly broke off, slowing, not letting him pass out. He'd done this three times already. Relived the whole thing three times. As if being brutally raped once wasn't enough.. Joe drew a chair next to him.

"Blaine, I'm not leaving you. I'm right here, baby boy, and I love you so much. Just breathe…." He put his hand next to Blaine, as close as he could without actually touching him, and jumped when Blaine tilted his face into his father's hand. His son's cheek was firm and warm and wet, and Joe kept his fingertips pressed against Blaine's face, praying that this would be enough.

"Daddy… Daddy… I'm sorry," Blaine sounded exhausted, but somehow more alert than before.

"Blaine, it's okay. It's going to be okay," Joe said, "You have nothing to be sorry for…"

Blaine's eyes opened slowly, eyelashes fluttering as his hazel irises locked onto his father. "No, Daddy, I do. It was my fault. The whole thing. It was my fault."

"What do you mean?" Joe asked. "How is this your fault?"

"Because," Blaine said, "I'm the one who let Jeremiah in."


	6. Rape

_Blaine was watching television when the door rang._

_"They're looking at the wee little puppet man," Spike said sardonically, causing puppet Angel to attack him, screaming with rage. Blaine watched to the end of the fight, it was his favorite part of the episode. He flipped the t.v. off as puppet Angel triumphed, still laughing as he made his way to the door. The laughter died as he opened the door._

_"Jeremiah?" Blaine tilted his head to the side, his features molding into the confused expression Kurt had declared adorable just last night, "What are you doing here?"_

_"I need to talk to you, Blaine." Jeremiah was standing on his porch, hair waving and blue eyes wild. Blaine could remember a time when those eyes would have made his heart skip a million beats, but that was before he'd spent hours staring into Kurt's. Now Jeremiah's pleading eyes were just mildly disappointing. "Can I come in?"_

_Blaine's heart started clenching, something instinctive telling him that he shouldn't let Jeremiah in. "I-I'm not sure. My dad's not home and I don't think he'd like you in the house when he's not around."_

_"Is this the same 'Dad' that hates you for being gay?" Blaine moved to shut the door, but Jeremiah was too quick for him, holding it open. "Look, Blaine, I… I really need your help."_

_"You need my help?" The race of foreboding was still there, but Blaine liked to help people._

_"Yeah, I really do. And I figured, since you're the reason I lost my job…." Jeremiah trailed off, but his eyes were still begging. Blaine winced, and shoved the foreboding into the deepest parts of his mind as he threw the door open._

_"Can I get you anything?" Blaine asked. Jeremiah had made himself at home, plopping down on Blaine's couch and setting his feet on the coffee table. Blaine didn't want to think of how his father would react if he could see Jeremiah there._

_"No, thanks. Just come sit next to me." Blaine did as he was told, sitting stiffly on the edge of the couch. Jeremiah always did this to him; made him feel like a child who was about to be punished if he didn't obey orders. It didn't help that Blaine was raised to listen to his elders._

_"You said you needed something from me?"_

_"I was just thinking, you cost me my job, Blaine. I figure that you might be willing to give me something in return."_

_"Oh, you mean money?" Blaine asked. "Yeah, I can give you some money if you need it. We can head right on over to the bank, just let me change-"_

_Blaine made to get up, but Jeremiah grabbed his wrist. "That's not what I had in mind."_

_"Then what did you have in mind?" Blaine said, sitting back against the couch. Jeremiah grinned and leaned forward, his hand dropping from Blaine's wrist to begin drawing circles on his knee._

_"Let's see, Blaine… what have I wanted since we started seeing each other?" The hand moved up, beginning to run up and down Blaine's thigh. "The one thing you never gave me…"_

_Blaine slapped his hand away, "What are you talking about?"_

_"I know you aren't that stupid. Look, my girlfriend dumped me when you cost me my job and I'm horny as hell."_

_"You never mentioned a girlfriend," Blaine said, "You told me you were gay."_

_"More of an equal opportunity sex addict, I'm afraid. Look, Blaine, I never lied to you. I never pretended we were in a relationship. I'm not gonna sit around wining and dining another guy, I'm not a freaking faggot. Now give me what I want…"_

_"No," Blaine said, standing up. "You lied to me, you treated me like dirt, and you used me to cheat on someone who loved you. Not to mention your hair looks like a dirty mop, so no, I'm not giving you anything like that! I will offer you some money, because I did cost you your job. I'm going upstairs to change and then I'm heading to the bank. You can stand outside until I'm ready, follow me in your car, I'll give you a few hundred dollars, and then I never want to see you again."_

_Blaine ran up the stairs to his room, tears obscuring his view as he slammed the door behind him. How could he have thought Jeremiah loved him? How could he have pined over that jerk? He was so stupid, he thought viciously, pulling his t-shirt over his head. Stupid. He ripped off his jeans. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

_It wasn't until he reached for a pair of slacks that he saw Jeremiah standing in the doorway._

_"What the hell are you doing?" Blaine screamed, grabbing the slacks and holding them in front of his nearly naked body. "Get out of my room!"_

_Jeremiah stepped forward, "I don't think so, Blainey."_

_Blaine tried to fight him, he really did. He had never realized how terrifyingly large Jeremiah was compared to him. And then Jeremiah's fist collided with his face and everything became fuzzy. Soon, Jeremiah had pulled a rope out of… somewhere and had wrapped it around his waist, pining his arms to his sides. Blaine struggled, screaming as Jeremiah picked him up like he weighed nothing and carried him to his bed._

_Somehow, it wasn't until Jeremiah pulled off his boxers that his intentions took shape in Blaine's mind._

_"N-no. No, stop. Please," Tears made their humiliating trek down Blaine's face as Jeremiah began tying his ankles to the bedposts, "Ow, that hurts! Stop! I h-have a boyfriend, you can't do this!"_

_"Oh, good. Now I won't have to listen to you whine about your 'virginity'," Jeremiah said, "Unless you… you haven't lost it yet, have you? And just when I thought you couldn't get any more pathetic." Jeremiah finished tying his ankles and walked to his front, crushing his lips to Blaine's. Blaine struggled, crying even harder. He didn't like this. It felt wrong and not like Kurt, and it hurt._

_"Y-you can't do this," Blaine said as Jeremiah released him, walking towards a GAP duffle bag he'd dropped on Blaine's floor. Jeremiah clicked the door shut and began rummaging in his bag. "M-my dad's going to be home soon…"_

_"Oh, is Daddy gonna come save you?" Jeremiah laughed, "You're pathetic. You think he cares? You think he loves you? You think he wanted a faggot for a son? You embarrass him. That's why he was so furious to see us together. And he should be embarrassed. Does he know about the song you sang me? 'You can put your toys in the drawer tonight' – Blaine, buddy, you were begging for this! You little faggot whore." Jeremiah pulled a large gag out of his bag, and began walking toward him._

_"Please," Blaine whispered. Jeremiah shrugged and began stuffing the gag into Blaine's mouth. Blaine threw his head from side to side – he didn't want this, it hurt, _it hurt_. The gag hit the back of his throat and he gagged, but Jeremiah didn't take any pity, tying the gag behind his head with an offhand promise that he'd get used to it._

_Blaine didn't open his eyes again until Jeremiah lowered himself on top of his body and Blaine realized with horror that the other man was completely naked. He began screaming, trying as hard as he could to get away. He didn't want this, he didn't want it… Jeremiah leaned over him, making it even harder to breathe, and whispered in his ear._

_"Now I've got you alone."_


	7. Under Arrest

Joe sat across from his son, his fist still aching from where he'd punched the wall twenty minutes before. Right after Blaine had sobbed out the whole story. It was one thing to know what Jeremiah had done to him, quite another to hear it from his sons own trembling lips. To hear how scared he must have been.

"A-are you okay, baby boy?" He asked. Blaine was facing the wall, his arms wrapped tight around him. He'd been like that since he told him. "Blainey…"

"Don't call me Blainey!" Blaine didn't move, but his voice was harsh and painful. "He called me Blainey."

Joe's fist throbbed, wanting to hit something else. He'd called his son Blainey since he was eight months old. "I'm sorry. Blaine. You know that none of this is your fault, right? Not a single thing."

"I was undressed for him. When he came in, I was down to my boxers. And I sang this song on Valentine 's Day… I'm sorry, Daddy! I didn't mean to, I didn't think – I just wanted to sound older, so that he would like me. I thought if I was sexier, or something, he would want me. I just wanted somebody to want me, even though I was a…" Blaine choked on the next word, and whimpered, sliding further into bed.

"A what? Blaine, what are you talking about?"

Blaine whimpered and choked some more, unable to get the words out of his mouth. They vanished completely when Kurt walked through the door.

Blaine didn't turn around, but Joe could see his back tensing, the way all attempts to say the word died in his throat at the sound of Kurt's lace up high heeled boots clacking nervously in the entry way. There was another sound behind him, another pair of footsteps, a softer, quieter pair.

"Mr. Anderson?" Kurt asked, his high voice cracking with nerves. Blaine had gone utterly still. "Is Blaine awake? Should I come back later?"

"No," Blaine whispered, his voice muffled in the sheets. Kurt rushed forward several steps, then stopped himself, trembling with indecision.

"I brought someone to see you," He said, "I figured that, if I was in an… accident, like the one you were in, I would really want my mom. Neither of us have our moms, so I thought I would offer up my substitute."

Joe stared at the woman in the doorway. A simple woman with a sweet, pretty face and short brown hair. She stood in the doorway, brown eyes wide and uncertain. She didn't know that Blaine had been raped, Joe was sure of it. She seemed shocked at the quiet, reticent figure on the bed. She locked those sympathetic brown eyes on Joe, and he was sure she was some kind of angel.

"Hi," She said, holding out a hand to Joe, "I'm Carole Hud - Hummel. I'm Kurt's stepmom? I'm really sorry if I'm being presumptuous, but Kurt thought Blaine could use a woman around and I'm obviously a woman – Is it okay if I go sit with him?"

"Please," Joe said.

The angel made her way to his son's bedside, where Blaine was still staring at the wall. "Hey, Blaine?" Blaine didn't respond, and Carole cleared her throat, looking uncertain. Kurt sat next to Blaine's bed, playing with a threat at the corner of his blanket. He looked up at Carole and nodded encouragingly. "Blaine, I – Do you want to talk about something?"

Blaine rolled over slowly, and Carole jumped, staring at the bruise around his eye. It was yellow and fading, but still harsh and obviously made by a fist. Kurt winced, his arms involuntarily moving closer to Blaine.

Blaine bit his lip, staring at her. His eyes were too wide, and uncertain, like he wanted to ask for something, but didn't know quite what to ask for. Finally, he cleared his throat, and in a voice Joe hadn't heard in over ten years asked, "Can I have a hug?"

"Of course, baby," Carole murmured, slowly wrapping her arms around Blaine. Joe's son sobbed and leaned into the embrace, clinging to Carole's arms. Kurt set his hand against the boy's ankle, gently, trying to provide as much comfort as he could.

"I'm scared," He sobbed. "I-I'm scared all the t-time. And I want people to touch me, I want to be okay, but I'm so s-scared!"

"It's okay, Blaine," Carole soothed in a voice Blaine had never heard before, certainly not from his own mother, "It's okay. You don't have to be scared or embarrassed. I've got you, it's okay."

Joe sat across the room, trying to hold his tears back. He wanted to do that for Blaine. He wanted to hold his son tight and soothe all his hurts and make his pain go away. "Thank you," He said when he had the strength to speak. "Thank you so much."

Kurt smiled softly at him. He understood.

"Excuse me?"

Joe looked up to see another woman standing in the door. Officer Payne, from yesterday. Blaine backed away from Carole, his eyes impossibly wide.

"Blaine? I really need your statement today," She said.

Blaine turned white, his lips trembling as his eyes darted from the woman in the doorway to where Kurt was sitting at the edge of his bed. "I-I can't."

"I'm sorry, Blaine," The officer said, pulling a pad out of her pocket, "But I need you to try. You need to talk to me about what happened."

"I can't."

"You have to."

"I-I c-can't," Blaine's eyes darted back to Kurt, "Not here, not in front of all these people…. I can't!"

"I'm sorry, Blaine, but you need to talk about it, now," Payne was raising her voice at him. Payne was raising her voice at his little boy. Joe's heart pounded.

"Excuse me, Officer Payne. I need to see you in the hall for a moment." He followed the police woman out, leaving Carole and Kurt to comfort his hyperventilating son. "What the hell was that?" He demanded as soon as he'd cleared the door.

"Mr. Anderson, I can't afford to play games anymore. I need your son to talk."

"In front of his boyfriend? In front of the first woman to show him kindness in years? You want to make him talk about this when it happened yesterday? You want to make a child live through that again?"

"I'm running out of time, Mr. Anderson. I can hold Jeremiah Wilson for a few more hours and then I have to charge, and so far I have nothing. The ropes and gag used to bind your son were sex toys, commonly used in consensual relations that, by their nature, got rough. Jeremiah didn't have a gun or a knife, or scissors. Your son's injuries can be easily passed off as accidental, or the result of rough first time sex. And your son was seen in public serenading his rapist with a very suggestive song. At this point, without eyewitness testimony, there are far too many excuses that Jeremiah could use. 'His dad misunderstood or overreacted', 'He wanted it rough, you know how these gays are', 'the little fag wanted it'-"

"-Don't you dare!"

"Oh, did that hurt? Because imagine how much it's going to hurt Blaine. When he sees Jeremiah in court saying those things about him. If we even get to court. Rapists will bully and terrorize their victims in any way they can, Mr. Anderson, especially when those victims have the power to hurt them. Jeremiah is probably going to say those things about your son, and more. He'll hit at your boy's self-esteem, his character, until Blaine becomes nothing more than a little gay kid who got in too deep."

Joe breathed deeply, pressing his hand to his face, "You mean… You honestly think Blaine asked for this?"

"No, I don't," Officer Payne said, "Because I saw the look in that boy's eyes when you brought him into the hospital. I saw the fear and pain and humiliation. That boy was raped. But the jury is never going to see that boy. They'll see a clean cut, rich, gay boy in a blue suit who refuses to talk about what happened. And then they'll see Jeremiah, a working class man who was harassed by said boy in public, who lost his job because of him, and who says, very reasonably, that Blaine asked him for it. Mr. Anderson, do not mistake my urgency for callousness. I have been in sex crimes for eight years, and I can tell you that men who are raped rarely get justice. Do you know how many adolescent boys kill themselves after being raped? How many of them question their sexuality, their identity? Most of these boys don't even feel like they can go to the police because they're afraid of being humiliated even more."

"B-Blaine could kill himself over this?" Joe whispered.

"He's more likely to than a girl in the same situation. Blaine's going to be sitting in a front of a jury made up of people who probably don't even think a boy can get raped. Most of them won't understand Blaine's sexuality, assuming they're not morally against it. Mr. Anderson, your son is probably not going to get through this in one piece. And if he doesn't start talking about it, Jeremiah Wilson is going to go free."

Joe leaned back against the wall, trembling. Emotions warred inside him, emotions too deep for him to comprehend. He had to protect Blaine. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to find his little boy on the floor, life draining out of his wrists. He couldn't let that happen.

"Okay," He finally said, "You can take a statement. But Blaine's boyfriend can't be in the same room, Blaine won't talk in front of Kurt. And I have to be there."

"I'm afraid that can't happen."

"Jones?" Payne's face pinched as she looked at the large officer. "I thought I told you to stay away from the victim, you've been suspended from this case."

"I was reinstated," The officer said, muscles bulging, "After I got Jeremiah Wilson to talk."

"He confessed," Payne's eyebrows disappeared in to her brow line.

"He sure did," And Jones stepped forward, his eyes turning dark, "And he gave a motive."

In the next few seconds, two horrible things happened. One, Blaine stepped into the hallway, his hospital gown swirling around his legs. Two, Joe was slammed into a wall, the cold circle of handcuffs slapped around his wrists.

"Daddy, what's going on? Dad!"

"Hey, what are you doing?" Joe yelled, testing the cuffs around his wrist. "Let me go, what's going on?"

"Jones, what are you doing?" Payne yelled, shocked.

"Dad! Let go of my dad! Dad, why is this happening? Daddy, don't leave me! Please don't take my daddy away, I can't… I can't…" And Blaine fainted, his eyes rolling in his head as his panicked breathing caught up with him. Carole caught him, lowering the boy's body gently to the ground as doctors swarmed around him.

"Blaine? Blaine! What the hell is this, I need to get to my son! Blaine!" Joe fought, but the cuffs were too tight, the officer far too strong. His head was going into panic mode, repeating his son's name with every heartbeat. Blaine wasn't strong enough to do this alone. "What do you think you're doing, let me go!"

"Afraid I can't do that," The officer said gruffly, "Jeremiah Wilson told us everything, including his motive. Joseph Anderson, you are under arrest for paying a twenty-four year old man to rape your son."


	8. Blaine

"Is it alright if I record this?"

"I guess."

"Um, Blaine… you do go by Blaine, don't you?"

"Yes."

"My name is Dr. Hennings. I'm here to talk to you about - "

"Are you going to tell me I'm lucky?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Everyone keeps saying how lucky I am. Lucky that all I had to deal with was a little anal tearing and a black eye. Most boys who are raped get it a lot worse. I'm getting discharged today, because he didn't h-hurt me that badly. All the doctors have been telling me how lucky I am."

"You're not lucky, Blaine."

"… Aren't we supposed to be talking about my childhood or something?"

"If you want to. I'm not a normal doctor. I don't poke and prod you and tell you what you have to do to get better. That's for you to decide. All I ask you to do is talk."

"I can talk about whatever I want?"

"Whatever you want, Blaine."

"I want to talk about Kurt. My boyfriend. I'm gay, I have a boyfriend."

"I know that you're gay. It's okay, you're not going to shock me. What about Kurt?"

"He keeps trying to touch me. Ever since I was – ever since it happened. He kept trying to hold my hand during my physical today. And ever since my dad left, he's always around. It's like, like he doesn't think I can be by myself."

"Do you think you can be by yourself?"

"I think so. Why wouldn't I be? I wasn't alone when it happened."

"Why don't you want him to touch you, Blaine?"

"…. I want to talk about something else now."

"Go ahead."

"…. When I was little, my dad used to read me these storybooks. You know, with princesses and trolls and dragons? There was this one book, 'The Land of Stories'. It was my favorite. I loved it so much that I used to pretend that everyone I met was from the storybook. Like, the big scary boys that pushed me on the playground where trolls, and the teacher who gave me band aids when I scraped my knee, she was an elf. And the girls were pixies, because they were tiny and cute and super annoying. My mom was a princess, like Cinderella, only she forgot to leave a glass slipper, so my dad could never find her."

"And what were you, Blaine?"

"Well, that was the thing. I didn't know what I was. My dad used to say I was the prince, but that wasn't quite right. I've never really been brave enough to be a prince. I really wanted to be the princess, but I felt kind of trapped. Like there was a princess inside of me, waiting to get out… whoa that sounded fa- … gay. … I – Anyway, I finally decided that I was a castle. I was short and strong, and kind of oblivious, and I sent out dragons to protect myself sometimes, but inside me was a princess – or prince, I guess – and this prince was everything I wanted to be. Brave and brilliant and charming and wonderful. And someday another prince would come and slay all my dragons and rescue me, and I could become the prince for real. That sounds really stupid doesn't it?"

"Not to me it doesn't."

"Yeah, well, I kind of grew out of that phase. But ever since I - it happened, I've been thinking about that storybook again. And I've been coming up with new trolls and elves and pixies. It's the only way I can keep all these names and people straight in my head. The doctors and Carole are all elves. They're sweet and safe, and they help instead of hurt. And then, Officer Payne and Perotta are both pixies. They're short and harmless, but kind of annoying. Officer Jones is a troll. He's big and he scares me. Trolls can't touch me."

"And what about your father? Your doctors say that you wouldn't let him touch you. And Kurt. Are they trolls?"

"What? No, they're – no. No!"

"I'm sorry, Blaine. I didn't mean to offend you."

"Is that why they made my dad leave, because they thought that he scared me?"

"Blaine, I need you to breath for me, honey."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Blaine. You can take a minute if you need to."

"…"

"…"

"My dad isn't a troll. He doesn't scare me."

"What is your dad, then?"

"He's a prince. I've always known he was a prince, ever since I could remember. He is brave and strong, and he always tries to help me. A prince will always try to save a princess, even if they aren't... romantically involved. Kurt's a prince too, but he was my prince. He was going to set me free. I'm not angry at them, or afraid of them. I love them so much."

"Then why don't you want them to touch you?"

"I thought Jeremiah was a prince once, too. But he wasn't. He was something evil, something worse than a troll."

"So, you're afraid Kurt and your dads aren't true princes either?"

"No, I know they are real. That's what makes it so hard."

"What is it, Blaine?"

"I let Jeremiah in. I lowered my defenses, even though I knew I shouldn't. And he broke me. He knocked down all my protection and I'm afraid. Because my dad and Kurt, they're trying to come save me. And I can't let them touch me because I don't want them to find out."

"Find out what?"

"That when Jeremiah broke into my castle, he didn't just break me. He killed my princess. There's nothing inside me worth saving anymore."

"I don't believe that's true, Blaine. I believe you're hurt, and you might not see the good things in you right now. But I believe they're still there. And I bet if you let the people you love get close to you, they can help you find those things."

"… I don't want to talk anymore. I can't… Can you turn that thing off?"


	9. Joe

**A/N: Blaine's father is played by David Boreanaz in my head. When I use the name Joe Anderson, you are only ever allowed to picture David Boreanaz and if his father is played by anyone else on the show, I will cry. I probably should have mentioned that earlier, but there you have it. Also, Chapter Eight is an actual chapter now. For a short period of time it was an authors note, but I replaced it with a chapter because screw author's notes. Yes, I am aware of the faux irony. So for those of you who saw the author's note chapter, you should probably go back and read the actual chapter. It's kind of important. Sorry, I will go now.**...

...

"Where is my son?"

"Mr. Anderson…"

"He was supposed to be released from the hospital this morning. Shouldn't I be down there to sign him out?"

"… Mr. Anderson, due to the nature of your charge, Child Protective Services has stepped in. Your son has been removed from your custody. He's no longer your legal responsibility."

"… What?"

"Because of your son's circumstances, he will be in the care of Carole and Burt Hummel until a suitable relative or foster home becomes available."

"Oh, my… Y-you can't do this. You can't take my child away from me like this!"

"I'm afraid we can, Mr. Anderson. If you are cleared of these charges, your son will be returned to you, obviously. Until then… You have been read your rights, have you not?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Officer Jones will be asking you a few questions. I believe you've already met?"

"We've met."

"Hello, Anderson. It's a nice day, isn't it?"

"You can't do this. You can't take my child."

"We already have. Anderson, please, see this from our perspective. With what you are accused of doing, putting Blaine back into your care would be horrific."

"I didn't do anything!"

"Jeremiah Wilson begs to differ. He claims that you offered him 1,800 dollars to 'sex the fag up a little'."

"Don't you talk about my son that way!"

"I'm reading the report, Mr. Anderson, those are his words, not mine. Please try not to get violent."

"S-so that – that rapist says I did this. And you're going to believe him, just like that?"

"He provided a receipt for an atm on South and Mayberry. $1,800 withdrawn from a joint account between you and your son roughly two hours after the rape."

"Blaine was going to the bank that afternoon. His card was probably sitting on his desk; it would have been easy for Jeremiah to steal it."

"And how did he know your son's PIN number?"

"Blaine took him out for coffee a few times. Blaine doesn't cover the number pad when he punches in his PIN, he assumes nobody would steal it. I'm always yelling at him about that. Check his record of transactions, see if the coffee's on there."

"… Officer Payne took a statement from Blaine this morning. He said that after he was raped, he heard you and Mr. Wilson talking downstairs. Care to tell me what you and your son's rapist where chatting about?"

"I was angry at him for taking Blaine's virginity. I didn't know that he had-"

"Wait, so, what you're trying to tell me is that you knew your son was having sex, but you weren't aware that it was non-consensual?"

"I heard what was going on when I walked upstairs, but I thought it was his boyfriend. And when Jeremiah came downstairs…."

"You mean, you listened to your son being raped, and you mistook it for consensual sex? I'm having a very hard time believing that, Mr. Anderson."

"It's the truth! Why would I have let it go on if I knew?"

"… How tall are you?"

"What the hell kind of a question is that?"

"Mr. Anderson, it's in your best interests to answer the questions I ask you. How tall are you?"

"6'1."

"You're a pretty big guy then. Play any football?"

"I was on the team in high school."

"Yeah, I bet. It says here that you graduated from Notre Dame. Catholic, then?"

"Yes."

"You married April Rhodes in 1992. Your marriage lasted approximately two years, and your son was born in late '93. Now, looking over these divorce papers, it looks like there wasn't much of a custody battle. You filed for full custody, and April didn't contest it. Why do you think that is?"

"April never wanted a child. She gave up twins for adoption before we were married, and I don't think she ever recovered from that. I, on the other hand, wanted a baby so badly… We thought we could change each other, and then April accidentally got pregnant. She wanted an abortion; I was the one who begged her to have the baby."

"And how long was it after Blaine was born that you two were together?"

"She walked out when he was four months old. She wanted to put him up for adoption, I didn't. Eventually it was a choice between my wife and my son. I chose Blaine. The divorce was finalized a few months later."

"You've been caring for Blaine alone for over 16 years, then?"

"Yes."

"That's got to be tough. All the stigma of a single parent, with half the social programs afforded to single mothers."

"It was worth it."

"I'm sure it was. I have boys myself. I imagine you took him to church with you growing up?"

"Yes."

"Taught him football, played catch with him?"

"… Yes."

"So, you're a big, Catholic guy who gives up your whole life to take care of your only son. And then you find out that he's gay. That's got to be a blow to the ego."

"This is what you've been driving at? No, I don't have a problem with my son's sexuality."

"Are you familiar with a place called Surridge Farms?"

"… I don't believe this."

"Answer the question, Mr. Anderson."

"Yes, I'm familiar."

"Good, then you can answer this next question. What service does Surridge Farms provide, Mr. Anderson?"

"… I …. It's a, uh… It's a reorientation camp for gay and lesbian teenagers."

"It's a straight camp."

"Yes."

"According to their records, Mr. Anderson, Blaine was enrolled in that camp in the summer of 2008. That would be just after he came out, wouldn't it?"

"Blaine was at the camp for a little over a week."

"It was meant to turn him straight."

"I… Yes."

"Surridge Farms was shut down in 2009. Do you know why, Mr. Anderson?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

"Because their idea of 'reorientation' was exposing the teenagers to pornography, forcing males and females to kiss each other, sometimes even go a little further in order to 'stir their natural desires'. The Surridge Farms case was a hotbed of child abuse. So why was Blaine there, Mr. Anderson?"

"… I was afraid. We both were. A few boys from Blaine's school had beaten him up at a school dance, for going out with another boy. One of Blaine's teachers suggested looking into these camps… I didn't understand homosexuality. April's parents told me it was the result of Blaine not having a good maternal influence, that it would ruin his life if I didn't do something to help him overcome it. Blaine was miserable; he told me he didn't want to be gay anymore. I found this camp, where they claimed that they could help him; that they could make him just like everybody else. There would be no more bruises from boys shoving him in the halls, there would be no more coming home crying every day, no more phone calls at midnight telling me that my baby boy was in the hospital because some kids beat him until he couldn't stand. So, yes, I enrolled him in a reorientation camp. And then he called home a week later, crying because his first kiss was with a thirteen year old lesbian girl named Santana, and I pulled him out. Two days later, I found him in the bathtub with his wrists slit and we transferred him to Dalton, got him with a therapist. I found the right ways to help him. I never wanted to change my son. I only wanted to protect him."

"I really want to believe you, Anderson. I'm a single dad; I know how hard it is to raise boys alone. But you have to look at the evidence. We have a boy with a history of physical and sexual abuse, proof of funds being deposited from your account to Jeremiah Wilson's following the rape of your son, and we have established a history of you paying to have your child molested in order to make him 'normal'. We even have your own confession that you sat by and listened while your son was being raped. I've got to be honest here; in my mind, either you were intentionally screwing up your child's life, or you are the worst father Blaine could possibly have."

"…"

"Mr. Anderson, do you have anything to say?"

"…"


	10. Forgotten

_Blaine Anderson was questing._

_True, not many three year olds knew what questing was, but Blaine was quite educated in these matters. Questing was something you did when you needed to find something, but you didn't want it to be boring. Blaine hated boring things._

_Blaine scampered around the room quietly, wearing the faded bathrobe his mother had left crumpled in the corner of her closet when she ran away from the ball – which was far too big for him, but looked like a royal robe if you squinted a bit – and his father's pocket watch, which served as a magic medallion to aid him in his quest. He was almost there… he could feel it…. Ah, ha!_

_But the magic book was so high on the bookshelf! Blaine pouted, crossing tiny arms over his chest. It looked like the true test of his valor was at hand. Blaine pulled himself up onto the couch, his curls getting ruffled by the thick fabric. Soon, he was standing on the couch cushion, testing his balance. So far, so good. Blaine hooked one leg over the back of the couch, pulling himself up to the top of the couch. He looked down with wide eyes; he was so tall!_

_Blaine turned back to the task at hand, reaching for the magic book. He was almost there, just a little higher…_

_"Blaine? What are you doing?"_

_Blaine turned, beaming, to where Daddy was standing in the doorway, "I'm questing, Daddy!"_

_"I see," Daddy said, his mouth pursing at the corners, "Is there any reason you had to climb on our couch?" He made it to Blaine in ten easy strides, lifting the child into his arms. Blaine took the boost of his father's arms to snatch the magic book off the shelf._

_"I like climbing on couches," Blaine said, rubbing a hand over the front of the book._

_Daddy laugh/sighed, the way he always did when Blaine discovered a new game to play. "I swear child… Tell you what. When you are older, you can jump on as many couches as you want."_

_Blaine's eyes bugged, "Really?"_

_"Yep, but only if you stay off of them now," Daddy took the book from Blaine's hand. "Do you want to read this?" Blaine nodded wildly, curls bouncing. Daddy laughed and kissed his cheek as he settled into the couch, the boy cuddled into the crook of his arm. Daddy pulled his reading glasses out of his pocket, placing them on the bridge of his nose. "Now, let's see; where we were…"_

_"The prince and princess were gonna meet each other!" Blaine said. His father regarded him doubtfully._

_"Are you sure, Blainey boy? Let's see… the princess is locked in a castle… the prince falls in love with her…"_

_"- Because he hears her singing!"_

_" That's right… But an evil Wizard also hears the princess sing, and he wants her, too… What does the prince need to save the princess?"_

_"Courage!"_

_"That's my boy, hmmm… well; it looks like you were right. The prince agrees to meet the princess at the coming sunset." Blaine snuggled deeper into Daddy's side, waiting for his father's voice to lull him into story land. "But the Wizard knew of their plan, and he was determined to keep the brave and handsome Prince from reaching the Princess. So he went into the deepest forests to visit the trolls…"_

_"Oh, no," Blaine covered his face with his hands._

_"The forests were very dark, but the Wizard was not afraid, for he was the darkest creature of all. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a bag filled with beautiful gold. The trolls gathered, entranced by the beautiful gifts. The Wizard gave them all the beautiful gold he had, but he was clever. He knew that the trolls would not be satisfied until they had even more._

_"'Oh, please!' The trolls cried. 'Please give us more of the shining gold and silver. We'll die if we don't have it!' Of course, the silly trolls would have been just fine with no gold or silver at all, but to the trolls, that gold was more important than anything."_

_"Pffft!" Blaine laughed, "Silly trolls!"_

_"The Wizard promised them more gold, but only if they would capture the prince, and keep him locked away, so that the Wizard could sneak into the castle and take the princess for himself."_

_Blaine's laughter vanished, replaced by a gasp, "What! But the prince has to meet the princess! They can't do that, can they, Daddy?"_

_"Shh…. Let's see… The trolls agreed, and when the prince rode through the darkest forests, they all attacked him at once. The prince was very brave and strong, but the trolls were quick and clever, and they tied the prince up in a trap. The prince struggled to escape, but he became tired and discouraged, and the trolls all stood around and laughed at him. The sun set and the princess cried alone in the tower, because she thought the prince had forgotten her. And… it looks like that's the end of the page, baby boy… hey? What's the matter?"_

_Blaine sobbed, tiny tears dribbling between pudgy fingers, "It's so… sad!"_

_"Well, if you want, we could read some more."_

_Blaine shook his head, "No. One page at a time. It's more fun that way. Just let me peek…" He lifted Daddy's hand and turned the page just a bit, peering at the page underneath. A small, pretty little redheaded pixie grinned back at him. "Pixies! Daddy, the pixies will help the prince, won't they?"_

_Daddy smiled at him in that annoyingly grown up way and leaped at him, long fingers digging into Blaine's sensitive stomach. Blaine shrieked and giggled, trying to bat Daddy's tickling hands away._

_"Now, no more crying, Blainey," Daddy said, kissing the top of Blaine's head this time. "Daddy has some work he needs to do, and he can't do it if Blainey keeps being a little monkey. So, what do you want to do to get your wiggles out?"_

_Blaine bit his lip, "Hmmm… Can I watch a movie now and get my wiggles out later?"_

_Daddy paused a moment, considering, "You know what? Sure. You can watch any movie you want."_

_"Even Aladdin?" Blaine asked._

_"We have a winner!" Daddy announced, grabbing the movie and popping it into the player. Blaine curled up on the couch his eyes wide with excitement as the music began. "I love you, Blaine."_

_"I love you, too, Daddy."_

…

"Do you think this will be okay?"

Blaine stared at the Hummel's guest room. Kurt was standing next to him, hands clasped together nervously. Blaine tried to look excited, tried to smile, but the effort just drained him. "It's adorable, Kurt."

The room was adorable. Kurt had decorated it himself, if the elegant French theme was anything to go by. Blaine sat on the bed, looking out passed gauzy curtains to see blue sky and the peeking branches of a tree growing on the side of their house.

"Oh… Okay," Kurt said, and Blaine knew he was disappointed. He walked over, going to lay a hand on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine flinched away, and Kurt's eyes turned blue. "Are you sure you don't want anything?"

Blaine shook his head, asking for privacy. Kurt clicked the door shut. Blaine was lying. He did want something.

He wanted his dad.

He stared out the window, reflecting that if he were a princess, this would be a beautiful tower to hide away in. But he wasn't a princess anymore, and there were no more princes coming for him.

Blaine lay down on his new bed and curled into a tight ball, crying into the empty room. His dad wasn't coming for him.

He'd been forgotten.


	11. Flyleaf

"So, uh, Blaine… Do you want some more potatoes?"

Blaine's head jerked up from his plate, Finn's voice putting him on alert. Finn was larger than he was, and Blaine couldn't stop thinking about how easy it would be for those hands to pin him down, and make bruises in his skin….

But no, Finn wouldn't do that. Finn wasn't a troll. Blaine wasn't sure what Finn was, to be honest.

"Blaine?"

Carole's voice sounded worried, and Blaine realized he had been staring at Finn's face. "No, thank you," He said, willing his voice to come out louder than a squeak. Carole gave him a soft smile, and gently placed her hand on top of his. She smelled nice, like vanilla scented soap, and her hands were soft. Safe. Helping. An elf. Blaine relaxed into her.

It wasn't until halfway through the meal that it happened. Blaine took a bite of meatloaf and Kurt slid his hand across the table. It was a half instinctive action, meant to be reassuring, but Blaine jerked away and swallowed. The bite went down too fast, Blaine's throat rebelling against it.

And then it was nothing but, I can't breathe, I can't breathe, oh, please, stop, get it out, it hurts, get it out, please, stop. It was in his mouth, oh please, no, it was inside him and he couldn't breathe, couldn't scream and he had to scream because Jeremiah was holding him down and breathing in his face and it hurt, it hurt, IT HURT….

"Blaine! Blaine, honey, are you okay?"

Blaine came back to reality on the floor of the Hummel's kitchen, having jerked out of his chair during the flashback. Carole was hovering over him, her hand warm against his forehead. Where Jeremiah's breath had been, there was only the smell of a mother, and Blaine closed his eyes, breathing it in.

It wasn't until his heart stopped racing and his throat stopped burning that Blaine realized there were another set of hands running gently over his hair, rubbing soothing patterns into his shoulders. They were too small to be Finn's, too gentle to be Burt. But that meant Kurt was… No!

"Don't!" Blaine shrieked, twisting away from Kurt's hands. Blaine sat up and stared into Kurt's eyes, desperate to see if he'd noticed, if he'd found out. One look at Kurt's face and Blaine knew he hadn't.

There was no disgust, no sick realization that he wasn't what he should be. Only pain. Why did he hurt everyone? Why did he have to be such a… a…

"I want to go to bed." Blaine said quietly.

The Hummels went about the rest of their evening unaware that Blaine was awake, unaware that he was listening. Blaine never slept well anymore, but he was always listening. It was like his ears were on hyper alert, trying to warn him more effectively, since they had obviously failed him before. Carole had come up to bring him some toast just after dinner, and he'd pretended to be asleep, but Blaine knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. Not tonight. So he listened.

He listened to Finn play a half-hearted game of Bioshock before practicing a drum solo. Blaine heard him groan with relief as he rolled into bed, heard his soft snoring thirty seconds later.

Kurt was listening to Flyleaf in the shower, which made Blaine's heart hurt because he'd bought Kurt that C.D. after seeing how many Flyleaf songs were on his Ipod. Kurt hated Flyleaf. He explained gently that he only had their songs on his Ipod because they were good songs to listen to in the shower after a bad day. No one could hear him cry over Lacey Sturm's screaming.

Kurt's Ipod must have run out of juice, because there was no alternative rock to mask the sound of Kurt crying himself to sleep an hour later.

Blaine listened to Carole and Burt arguing after Finn and Kurt had fallen asleep.

"That's none of my business," Carole hissed, "I love you, and if it were anything else, I would tell you, but that boy has a right to his privacy. What his father told me about is in confidence, and I think I should at least consult Joe Anderson before telling anyone else - "

"He's living in my house, he's dating my son; I think I deserve the basics. Like why he was screaming his head off on my kitchen floor. I'm not asking for his life story, I just want to know what's wrong with the boy!"

Blaine shivered and slid even further under the covers. What's wrong with him.

For the first time in years, he played with the thin scars around his wrists. There was a line in one of them, new scar tissue from where he'd pulled against the ropes. But the old scars were still there, thin lines that stood testament to the day he'd run a knife over them, desperate for the pain to end. Blaine never thought he'd feel like that again.

The Hummel family was all asleep when Blaine crept out of his bed. He walked over to the mirror Kurt had set against the far wall. It was a grand old thing; decorated in tiny, elegant spirals and silver bells in the shape of musical notes. Blaine stared into the mirror, watching how sunken his eyes were, the bruising against one still refusing to go down. The pajamas he'd borrowed from Finn seemed rough and coarse and unfamiliar, but Blaine refused to take them off. Before it happened, Blaine slept in his underwear. Before it happened, his eyes didn't look so mean and empty.

Blaine stared at his face in the mirror for several minutes, until the face didn't look like him anymore, until it didn't look like anything, and he could finally spit the word out, the word that had been plaguing him for days.

"Faggot."

Blaine had never said that word before. His father had taught him that it was uncouth, along with damn and hell and several other words he had never grown rebellious enough to use, even in his thoughts. The word burned coming out, like fire, but Blaine didn't stop them. He liked seeing the boy in the mirror flinch.

"What? Did you want to be something else? Did you want to be special, loved? Well, too bad. You let him in, you let him take it all away from you. Now you have to face, it, you're nothing but a dirty faggot whore."

Blaine felt tears running down his cheeks, saw the boy in the mirror trembling with pain, and ran his fingers along the twin scars on his wrists. Back and forth. Pain and punishment. It never ended. It will never end.

"And that's all you'll ever be."


	12. Enter The Trolls

Burt Hummel sat in his chair, drinking lemon tea and waiting for Carole to come home from work. Kurt made him drink this herbal crap, and so far lemon was the only kind he really enjoyed. Kurt put in a few spoonfuls of sugar, making it taste like warm lemonade. He was rather bored these days; Kurt didn't let him work more than three days a week. Now Kurt and Finn were at school and Carole was an hour late getting home from work. It was just Burt and Blaine.

Speaking – or rather thinking – of Blaine, the boy was now standing in the doorway, staring into the room with wide eyes, as though afraid something in the room would bite him. Burt stared at the boy, taking in the pieces of a puzzle that made no sense to him. The boy had been hurt, that was for sure; his face was still bruised, and Burt couldn't tell beneath the layers the boy was wearing, but there were probably more bruises on his chest and arms.

"Hey, Blaine," Burt said. Blaine's eyes met his, and he smiled. "You want to have a seat?" Blaine took the space next to him on the couch. Burt placed a hand on his shoulder, and Blaine barely flinched. He was fine with Burt and Carole, then. With Finn, he only stiffened a little. It was just Kurt, then. Did Kurt do something to hurt Blaine? Burt was working out how best to phrase the question when Blaine spoke.

"I don't know."

"What's that?" Burt asked.

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Oh." Burt winced. Blaine wasn't supposed to hear that. "I don't think there's anything wrong with you, kid, not like that. I just… you've been hurt, I can tell, and I don't know where your dad is, and I just - "

"I don't know where my dad is, either."

Burt bit his lip. He knew Joe Anderson, they were friends. He just couldn't bring himself to imagine a situation in which Joe would leave his son, bruised and bleeding on another person's doorstep. A twist of something unpleasant snaked through his stomach. "I'm just worried, that's all."

Blaine smiled, "You don't have to worry about me."

Burt shook his head, "Yeah, I do. I mean, you're a really good kid, Blaine. You're good to Kurt and you've been hurt, and I just want to know what's happened to you, you know? I care about you, Blaine." Blaine met his eyes, and opened his mouth to speak.

The doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Blaine said quickly, leaping off the chair. Burt heaved himself out of his chair, caught site of the couple outside the door and froze. He picked his phone out of his pocket and dialed Carole frantically.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

"We're taking good care of Blaine, I promise. He misses you, of course, but he's adjusting well, and soon they'll overturn these charges and you'll be fine," Carole said.

Joe sighed, "I just keep turning over every detail in my head. Jeremiah has this gold watch he wears all the time, and he wasn't wearing it when he came down. His hair wasn't brushed the way it usually was, shouldn't I have noticed something?"

"You made a mistake," Carole said gently, "Parents do that."

"Yeah, but I'm making all the mistakes I can, and Blaine's paying for them."

"Thinking like that won't help him. You are a good father," Carole said. She was so earnest, brown eyes wide.

"I wish Blaine had a mother like you," Joe said. Carole didn't know what to say to that, so Joe continued. "You know, when April got pregnant, I was so sure that we were having a girl. A little princess. And then Blaine was born and I thought I was wrong, but Blaine… he was a wild, adventurous little thing, but I could set him in front of Aladdin or Beauty and the Beast, and he would just gawk at the screen for hours. I never really stopped thinking of Blaine as my little princess. And I was so determined to keep him safe from the world that I lost him because of it."

"I envy you, how well behaved he was," Carole said, "To hear Burt talk, Kurt was born a saint. I think I must be the only one whose child made her want to tear her hair out. Finn was a handful and a half. One time he got into my razors and cut this big gash in his leg. And I felt like a terrible parent for letting it happen, but that wasn't fair to me or Finn. You can't protect him from everything."

"I could've protected him from this."

It was then that Carole's phone rang.

"Hey, Burt, I'm almost ready to head home, I just… what? No, they can't do that…. What do you mean, the law is on their side, they still can't… I'm gonna be there in twenty minutes, don't you dare let them... okay, bye."

"What's going on?" Joe asked, watching with wide eyes as Carole stuffed her phone back into her purse. "What's happening?"

"Craig and Erin Rhodes just showed up at our door. They're trying to take Blaine."

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

"Child Protective Services called us, and told us we should be able to take the boy immediately. He can stay in the hotel with us tonight and we can be on a plane back to New York tomorrow evening. He'll be able to see his mother's new show; it'll all be very exciting. We feel terrible taking so much time to get down here, but you don't have to go to any more trouble, Mr. Hummel." Erin Rhodes had a sickly sweet voice, slightly throaty from a long habit of smoking. Her smile was too wide, eyes trained on Blaine's pale face. Burt Hummel disliked her immediately.

"It's no trouble at all. Blaine's practically a part of our family," Burt said. Blaine didn't say anything. He stared at his grandparent's faces, bottom lip trembling. The poor thing looked terrified. "I really we should discuss things with my wife before letting you take him."

Craig Rhodes was a small apologetic man with a pencil mustache. He sniffed deeply and looked at Burt with sad eyes. "Blaine needs a home."

"He has a home. Joe Anderson - "

"Oh, the man who paid for him to be raped," Erin said coldly.

The room went silent.

Blaine went pale, his face tight with shock for a moment. Then, with an inhuman yell, he launched himself as his grandmother. Burt barely managed to catch Blaine around the waist, and struggled to hold him steady until Finn and Kurt walked in the door.

"Dude, what's going on?" Finn shouted, lifting Blaine off the floor as he struggled to kick the old woman.

"Don't you ever say that about my father! My daddy would never do that to me, never! You deserve to be kicked in the face, you hideous old troll! Let me go, let me go!" Blaine screamed and thrashed, struggling against Finn's grip.

"Blaine, please, honey," Kurt said, fighting back tears as Blaine went limp in Finn's arms and began to sob.

"He wouldn't," Blaine whispered.

Erin's lips were tight, "To be honest, Mr. Hummel, my husband and I have never approved of the manner in which Joe Anderson has been raising our grandson. I don't mean any offense to your family, but I think with us, Blaine would be much better off. I know a great psychiatrist in New York, we should have Blaine fixed by Christmas."

Burt's blood ran cold, "What do you mean, fixed?"

"His condition, of course. I don't mean to offend you, given the nature of your family, but I feel I have to speak the truth. If Blaine's father had his condition fixed when we told him to, Blaine would never have been hurt."

"What condition are you talking about?" Kurt said. Erin looked into Kurt's eyes and delivered her biggest smile yet.

"Being gay."


	13. Betrayal

Blaine raced into his room, his grandparents' words echoing in his head. 'Needs a home', 'psychiatrist', 'should be fixed by Christmas'. It was as though someone had flipped a switch, filling his life with horrific clarity.

They weren't going to let him go home. They were going to make him go with that troll; they were going to turn him into a troll himself. No, no! Blaine couldn't live with the trolls, he couldn't; he would die.

He would rather die right now.

Blaine stared down at the scars around his wrists. He could do it again. Just break that fancy mirror and take one of the shards. It didn't hurt that much, and now he knew what to expect. Daddy wouldn't be there to kick down the door and lift him out of the bathtub this time.

Daddy.

Blaine swallowed hard at the thought of his father. Grandma Erin's words had made everything clear. Daddy was locked in a jail cell, forced away because they thought that he paid Jeremiah to… Blaine shook his head wildly, pressing a fist to the side of his face. His father wouldn't have done that, he couldn't. But they thought he did. And if Blaine died right now, they could lock him up forever. So the solution was clear. Blaine had to go to the police. He had to tell them what really happened; he had to save his father.

And if he couldn't – or worse, if it was true – there were lots of guns at the police station. Blaine would get a hold of one, somehow, and end this.

Blaine tied his sheets together quickly, listening to Carole and Burt arguing with the trolls downstairs. He climbed down them and let himself drop to the ground, running in the other direction with a pounding heart. He looked behind him to see a car pull into the Hummel driveway. A pretty blonde woman with angry eyes got out, barely glancing at the sheets still hanging out the window before stalking up the Hummel's driveway.

It was four blocks away from the Hummel house that Blaine realized that he may not have made the wisest choice. He was on foot, it was getting dark, and he had no idea where he was going. But Blaine couldn't turn back. They must have realized he was gone by now if he went back now, he may never have a chance to escape again.

Blaine ran until his legs hurt, until he couldn't run anymore and he collapsed, sobbing, on the concrete.

"Are you alright, there, son?" Blaine looked up to see a single police cruiser stopped in front of him. Officer Jones sat at the wheel, his eyes set on Blaine. "Blaine Anderson? Is that you?"

Blaine stood up on wobbly legs, "Yes. I'm trying to get to the police station, please."

Officer Jones' brow furrowed, "What for? Don't you have anybody to take you?"

"No. You see, they're saying my Daddy paid someone to hurt me, and I have to tell them that he didn't. I have to…"

"Now, now, there's no need to sob. I was just on my way back to let your dad go. I was wrong, Blaine."

Blaine's heart jumped unevenly. "Really?"

"Yeah. Tell you what; I'll call and have him let go, and I'll sit with you until he comes to pick you up, okay? You'll be in your own bed by midnight; how does that sound?"

Blaine's throat was too tight to speak; all he could do was nod.

Twenty minutes later, Officer Jones was sitting on the curb next to him, Blaine sitting a fair distance away. Officer Jones seemed nice enough, but Blaine couldn't stop the voice that screamed TROLL! every time the man came close. Jones didn't seem to mind Blaine's aloof attitude.

"Well, there you go kiddo. Looks like you can go home now." Officer Jones beamed as a car pulled onto the curb next to them. Blaine simply stared.

"That's not my dad's car," he said, confused. The car door opened, and a shaggy blonde head poked out. Blaine's heart froze, just before a pair of large, meaty hands wrapped around his arms. "What? No. No! Let go of me, stop!" Blaine screamed. Jeremiah strolled over to him, coming close, too close. "Let go of me, please!"

Officer Jones grunted, continuing to hold the boy in place, "I'm sorry, Blaine. I hope you'll understand that a man has certain obligations."

"You're working for him," Blaine said.

Jeremiah laughed faintly, his breath playing over Blaine's face, smelling horribly familiar. "The little faggot does have a brain. How do you think I made all this happen? We needed someone to stall your psychotic father for me so I could make sure you don't mess everything up. Nice jacket, by the way. Hey, Jones, you want it for your kid? Blainey here won't need it."

Blaine's jacket was off of his shoulders in seconds, the two men working together to strip it off of him and shove him into the backseat of the car. The child locks activated, trapping him inside. Blaine watched through the window as Officer Jones shook hands with Jeremiah. How could he have been so stupid? The trolls always worked for the wizard.

Jeremiah hummed as he slid into the driver's seat, casually shoving Blaine back into the backseat. Blaine had been trying to climb over the console. The car pulled away from the curb.

"You should probably put on your seat belt, Blaine. Safety first and all." Jeremiah chuckled, like he'd made a clever joke. "You know, I honestly didn't think this thing would blow up the way it did. I mean, I know that pretty little head of yours doesn't have room for more than one brain cell, but I thought you'd be smart enough not to tell your father that I raped you."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Blaine said sourly.

"Wasn't a smart thing to do, Blaine. See, you are now what we generally call a sole witness. I'm out on bail for the moment, but soon I'll be going to trial. With you, I go to jail. Without you, I go free."

"So, I guess you're going to want without me?" Jeremiah turned and sent Blaine a smile that had chills rolling down his spine.

"Think of it as me finishing what I started."


	14. Protective

"You're not taking Blaine," Kurt hissed through clenched teeth. "No way."

Blaine had run up to his room a few minutes ago, leaving the Hudmels and Rhodes in a stare down in their living room. Kurt was shaking with rage. He didn't care what the law said; he didn't care if that old hag had a million papers in her withered hands, he wasn't letting them take him. His father stood behind him, solid and supportive as always.

Erin glared at him over her glasses, "I'm sorry if I've offended you, but…"

"This isn't about me being offended. I don't care what you think of me. Blaine is perfect the way he is, and he's been through hell these past few weeks, and I am not going to let you hurt him anymore than he's already been hurt."

"He was hurt because he was gay."

"You shut your mouth ," Burt said darkly, "Blaine did not ask to be raped. Not by being gay, not by anything else. And I don't know what the hell's going on with Joe right now, but he is a good father. I've seen him with Blaine; that kid is the sun and moon to him. I don't believe that he could do what you say he did."

"Joe Anderson is nothing but a hulking thug! Trust me, if I had my way, our April would never have locked eyes with him, much less created that bastard child!"

"Momma!"

The room turned in unison to see April step through the door. She didn't look much like herself at all, makeup undone and a plain t-shirt and jeans on her tiny figure.

"April Rhodes?" Kurt asked blankly, "You're Blaine's mother?"

"In a manner of speaking," April said quietly. Then she looked at her mother, and her eyes turned fierce.

"April," Erin stammered, color draining from her face, "How did you know where to find us?"

"The social worker called back about some paperwork you forgot to sign. How could you, Momma? That phone call was for me!"

"April, dear," Erin plastered that simpering smile on her face again, "Your father and I were just helping. You're far too busy to care for a child right now."

"But that was for me to decide, not you. And the last thing I want for Blaine is being dragged off to New York and forced to change who he is! I know you don't like him being gay, but I am sick and tired of you trying to decide what is best for my son!"

"Sweetheart, I'm your mother. I know what you want…"

"What I want," April said, "Is for you go sit down and shut up for once while I go talk to my baby. Now where is he?" Carole silently motioned toward the stairs, Erin sitting in outraged silence as the Hudmel's led April to Blaine's room.

"Dude," Finn whispered to Kurt, "Did you know she was Blaine's mom?"

"Not a clue. But suddenly the Rachel Berry fiasco makes a lot more sense."

The family came to a stop in front of Blaine's door. April wiped her hands on the front of her jeans, the normally confident woman paling. "This is it, huh? Sorry, I'm just a little nervous. I haven't really seen him since he was a baby. Okay, I'm ready," She strode forward and knocked on the door, "Blaine? Blaine, sweetie, it's your Momma. Can I come in and talk?"

Silence. April took a deep breath and opened the door.

The family stared into the room in silence.

"He's gone," Finn finally said.

"Well, Joe, you're off the hook."

The words were accompanied by the sound of his cell door sliding open. Joe looked up, his eyes adjusting to the sight of Officer Payne standing in front of him.

"What?"

"We just got in touch with Jeremiah Wilson's ex-girlfriend. Apparently the boy received a large sum of money when his grandfather died two weeks ago. There would be no motive for him to accept money from you. Now, come on. It's high time we let you go back to your son."

Joe ran through the door before Payne could change her mind, "Do you know why he attacked my son?" Joe asked, jogging through the police station.

"Jeremiah lost his mind when his girlfriend dumped him for cheating; he started stalking her, begging her to come back to him. He blamed Blaine for the breakup." Officer Payne reached out and handed Joe a letter, covered by a plastic bag. "He sent her this letter the day before he raped your son. I think you should read it."

Joe scanned the letter quickly. By the bottom of the page, his hands were shaking and his mouth was dry. "He was going to kill Blaine."

"That was his plan. He thought if he killed the other woman, so to speak, it would prove his devotion to the girl. But you knocked on the door halfway through the rape. We assume that he realized that if he killed Blaine, you would catch him and he'd go to jail for murder. If you hadn't come when you did..."

"I - " Joe cleared his throat and stared down at the letter. He tried to imagine what it would have been like, to walk into that bedroom to find his son dead. All he wanted was to hold his baby boy. "I think it's time to take Blaine home."

"Joe!"

Joe turned, "April?"

April ran toward him, "Joe, do you have Blaine?"

"What do you mean, do I have Blaine?"

The Hudmel's followed, looking pale and anxious. "Blaine's gone missing," Carole said, "He climbed out the window, we thought he was going to find you. You haven't seen him?"

Joe scanned the room in a desperate attempt to find his son. He looked to the doors to see Jones walking through them. It took him one second to realize what was in the officer's arms, another for the rage to fill him.

"HEY!" He yelled, racing through a line of stunned officers to get to the man on the other end of the precinct, "That jacket belongs to my son!"

The officer stared at him, "Yeah. I'm bringing it in for evidence. Why are you out of your cell… Hey!" The officer yelled as Joe shoved him against the bulletin board. A few officers jumped to their feet; Payne motioned for them to stand down.

"I brought that jacket for him to wear home from the hospital. I packed it myself. Now where is my…" Joe trailed off, his eyes wide with horror. Officer Jones was wearing a gold watch around his left wrist. Joe pulled it off and confirmed his suspicions. "So this is why he wasn't wearing the watch. He was counting on you to cover for him." Joe whispered.

Jones laughed lightly, but his eyes twitched around the room. "Can someone get this crazy man off - "

Joe slammed him against the table, "WHERE IS MY SON!"

"Joe, what the hell are you doing?" April shrieked, her voice going even higher than usual. Joe ignored her, throwing the watch toward Payne.

"This watch belonged to Jeremiah Wilson. He wasn't wearing it when he raped my boy. Now, Blaine is missing, and I swear that if you don't tell me where he is right now…." Joe grabbed the arm and yanked it up Jones' back, making the other man howl with pain.

"I would suggest you answer him, Jones," Payne said, staring at the watch, "Things aren't looking very good for you if Anderson's telling the truth, and helping us find Blaine Anderson may help you out."

"Wilson took him," Jones panted. Kurt made a funny, chocked sound, and April sobbed. "All he said was that he was going to finish what he started."

Joe glanced at the letter on the table, and his expression hardened, something dark and feral creeping into his eyes.

"Like hell he is."


	15. The Haunted Citadel

_Blaine crept slooooowly through the haunted citadel._

_Blaine wasn't sure what a citadel was, and when he asked why the upstairs landing was one, Daddy had simply responded, "Because I need a nap, that's why."_

_Now Daddy was a sleeping giant in his bedroom, and Blaine had to play quietly, or the giant would come out and eat him, little liver and all. Blaine didn't think Daddy would actually do that, but it was better not to take any chances._

_Blaine looked around with wide eyes; searching for any place that a ghost might be hiding. But Blaine was a tiny child at the best of times, and he simply wasn't tall enough to see everywhere. It was then that Blaine caught sight of the banister running around the landing. His eyes grew wide, a fiendish idea taking shape in his little head. Why, from there he could see everything! But first he needed something to lift him up._

_Blaine found it in Daddy's room. The stool that Blaine used to get up to Daddy's side of the sink in the morning. Blaine dragged the stool past Daddy's bed, careful to keep the scratch of the stool legs against carpet quieter than Daddy's rumbling snores. With a mighty tug, Blaine got the stool against the wall, and scampered up on top of it, pulling himself to the top of the banister. He stared, wide eyed, at the long drop down to the wooden floor._

_That was the moment his feet slipped._

_Blaine just barely caught the edge of the wall on his way down. He hung over the edge, tiny body dangling as his scraped palms screamed with pain._

_"DADDY!" He shrieked, "DADDY, DADDY!"_

_If Blaine had been able to lift himself up more than an inch, he would have seen his father barrel out of his bedroom with wild eyes, his hair sticking up in every direction. As it was, Blaine could only whimper and scream for his father over and over._

_"BLAINE! WHERE ARE YOU, BLAINE!"_

_"DADDY, I'M FALLING!"_

_A cry of alarm, and Blaine was pulled up by his wrists into his father's arms. Blaine latched on fiercely, locking his arms in a choking hold around Daddy's neck and burying his face in the hollow where the man's neck and shoulder met. Blaine could feel Daddy's heartbeat fast and heavy against his cheek. One of Daddy's arms was holding underneath his bottom, the other wrapped securely behind his back._

_"BB, what happened? Did you climb up there? Blainey, that's so dangerous, you could've gotten hurt, oh, come here, baby boy…" Daddy took deep, calming breaths, bouncing Blaine slightly the way he did when he was a baby. Blaine sobbed hysterically, not loosening his grip around Daddy's neck._

_"I-uh- it w-was s-s-scary!" He hiccupped._

_"I know baby, I know. It's time to calm down. Breathe, baby boy…" But Blaine was inconsolable. "Hey, hey now… take deep breaths, okay? You're safe now, Daddy's got you."_

_It took a full ten minutes of walking up and down the hall for the three year old's breathing to even out, for the tiny body to stop trembling and the sobbing hiccups to die down. Daddy wrapped Blaine in a blanket and set him in his bed, cuddling the small boy and using a corner of his blanket to wipe up his tears._

_"Now, Blainey, what happened? Why were you on the ledge?"_

_"I wanted to see where the ghosts were hidin."_

_"I told you not to keep climbing on things."_

_Blaine looked at his father reproachfully, "Just couches."_

_"No, anything higher than your stool. BB, right now you're too tiny to climb on big things, you could fall and hurt yourself. You almost gave Daddy a heart attack, see?" Daddy guided Blaine's fingers to his neck, where he could still feel his father's heart beating much faster than usual._

_"Daddy, your neck is moving really fast."_

_"It's moving fast because Daddy was scared that you were going to fall. You don't want to make Daddy scared, do you?" Blaine shook his head wildly, and Daddy smiled, kissing his forehead. "No more climbing on things, kay?"_

_"Kay." Blaine's brown eyes were huge, glistening with unshed tears in the light of the lamp above him. Daddy looked at him, wearing his thinking face._

_"Will reading your story book make you feel better?"_

_Blaine grinned brightly, "Uh, huh! I want to know if the Prince gets out to save the Princess!"_

_"Okay," Daddy pulled the book from the shelf and sat down next to Blaine and held him tight. Blaine squirmed around until he found the perfect spot for his tiny, soft body to fit against his father's large, firm frame._

_"The Prince stayed locked away in the deepest forests for many days. He fought and fought to get to the Princess, as he'd realized that by now the Wizard must be trying to take her for his own. But as hard as he tried, he couldn't escape on his own._

_"On the third day, when the prince had struggled until he was weak with hunger and dizzy with thirst, the Queen of the Pixies saw him as she flew over the forests._

_"'What is this?'" Daddy put on a high, girlish voice, making Blaine giggle. "'What are you doing in a troll's trap, young Prince?', the Queen of the Pixies asked. The Prince begged her to set him free, telling her the tale of the most Princess who ever lived. He told her all about the evil Wizard, and how he had to rescue the Princess or she would be lost forever._

_"Seeing the prince's struggle, the Queen took pity on him, and released him from the trap. Together they raced to the tower, but it was too late. The Wizard had been and gone. He'd used his cleverness to convince the Princess that the Prince had left her forever. The Princess, in her despair, had taken a special poison, and now lay near death." Joe was interrupted by a little sigh, and turned to see his tiny son fast asleep beside him. Blaine's miniature mouth was half open, his eyelashes fluttering lightly. Joe ran a hand through his son's tiny, perfect curls. He winced, remembering his terror at waking up to his little boy's blood curdling screams._

_"I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you," Joe whispered. Blaine slept on, oblivious to the world. "I love you, baby boy."_

"And I promise I won't let anything hurt you," Joe said quietly.

"Are you sure they're at your house?" Payne asked, glancing at Joe in the rearview mirror. "I mean, we've sent a few other officers' out, but time is really what matters here."

"He said he wanted to end this," Joe said, "The house is where it started. That's where this will be finished." Joe's fists were wrapped inside his son's jacket, one finger playing with the trigger of the gun he'd taken from Officer Jones' belt. "Can you step on the gas, please?"


	16. Jeremiah's Plan

Blaine screamed when he hit the bottom of the staircase. His whole body was shrieking with pain. Above him, at the top of the steps, he heard Jeremiah chuckle.

"What's a matter, Blainey boy? My goodness, you've gotten clumsy."

Blaine grabbed the chair beside him and got up on his hands and knees. This must be where Daddy was sitting, he thought dimly, just under the pain. He tried to pull himself to his feet but one of his knees buckled, sending him crashing back to the floor. Blaine heard Jeremiah's footfalls on the steps behind him and gave up trying to stand, using his hands to drag himself across the linoleum.

"Ah, ah, ah. Blaine I'm surprised at you. Didn't your father ever teach you to take responsibility for your actions?" A hand made its way into his curls and yanked up. Blaine kicked and flailed as Jeremiah casually dragged him back up the stairs by his hair. "You seduced me," Jeremiah said, his breathing heavy as his voice filled with rage, "You set me up and made me lose her, you freak!" Jeremiah slammed Blaine's head into the wall, making everything fuzzy.

"I… I don't… know…" Blaine slurred. "I don't… know what… you're…"

"Shut up!" Jeremiah screamed. "You knew exactly what you were doing, you little whore. 'Jeremiah, I'm not ready for this,' when the whole time you were begging! No wonder everyone thinks you're worthless."

"No," Blaine said. "No…"

"No?" Jeremiah laughed, "Who doesn't? Kurt, the little boyfriend who left you to go back to those Glee club friends of his? He didn't leave because he missed them." Jeremiah leaned in close, whispering in Blaine's ear, "He left because he would rather be tormented by those Mckinley high school jocks than listen to you whine all day. I've been watching Blaine. Ever since you ruined my life, I've been watching you. Kurt won't even let you touch him. Is it because he knows what a little slut you are?"

Blaine whimpered, trying to bow his head before Jeremiah yanked it back, "OW!"

"What about the Warblers? Always following you around, kissing your pretty little ass. You think they let you take all of those solos because you're just such a special little snowflake? They do it to shut you up. Better to have the boy dancing around up front like some sort of nutjob than to have to put up with him every day. They keep you up front so they don't have to have you next to them. Face it Blaine, you're not really talented enough to deserve all those songs, are you? You ever wonder what David's writing about you in his little notepad? I can imagine. 'Dear notepad, Blaine's at it again. When will the little faggot just shut up?'"

Jeremiah reached the top of the staircase, dragging Blaine over to the mirror at the end of the hall and throwing him against it. The glass splintered beneath his weight, cutting his face and dropping in shards with him as he dropped to the floor. Blaine curled up into himself, watching with terrified eyes as Jeremiah knelt down next to him.

"Listen, Blaine. I could kill you right now, but I know I'd get caught. There's no reason that I should have to go to jail over you, is there? But, if you did it yourself…" Jeremiah reached down with a gloved hand and plucked up a particularly jagged shard of glass, pressing it into Blaine's hands.

"What?" Blaine whispered, fingers curling instinctively around the cool glass.

"I saw the scars, Blaine," Jeremiah said, "I know you've been thinking about it. Just reopen the scars. It's so easy. And let's face it; you don't have a reason not to."

Blaine shook his head, "No."

Jeremiah's face froze, "Why not?"

Blaine cleared his throat; wincing at the pain it sent shooting through his limbs. "My dad."

"Your dad? Oh, Blaine he hates you more than anyone."

Blaine shook his head, tears filling his eyes. He tried to think it through, tried to find the words to tell Jeremiah he was wrong; but everything hurt too much. Jeremiah chuckled and leaned in, looking right into Blaine's eyes.

"If it weren't for you, he'd be with your mom still. Your Mommy left because of you; even as a baby you were an insufferable little brat and she couldn't stand it. Your dad spent years taking time off work to stay home when you were sick, turning down promotions so you wouldn't have to leave your friends, scrimping and saving to send you to that faggy school of yours. If you had never been born, your father would still be with the woman he loved. He'd be rich and happy, probably somewhere far away from here. You ruined his life, Blaine. No wonder your father doesn't love you."

Blaine didn't answer. Jeremiah swooped in for the kill.

"I'll give you a choice, Blaine. Either you take that glass and end it now, or I'll rape you again, and then do it myself. One way or another, everyone's problems will end tonight."


	17. Everything Dies

Officer Payne watched as Joe Anderson rolled out of the car and began running up the driveway behind her, his hands still wrapped in that crisp blue jacket. He'd probably walked up this driveway a thousand times, sighing in relief at the end of a long day.

Payne was very familiar with the face of a worried parent. She'd been dealing with minor victims for much of her career. But Payne had never seen a face as stricken with sheer terror as Joe Anderson's.

"Joe," She whispered as the man hit the wall beside her, "Joe!" Joe turned to stare at her, his brown eyes far too wide. "Joe, I think it's best if you stay out here while I go help Blaine."

"What? No. No, my little boy's in there," Joe shook his head wildly, but Payne cut him off.

"Joe, we have backup coming. I promise, there are people to help Blaine, and the best thing you can do for him right now is to wait outside and lead them in. Joe. Joe! Joe, look at me. I promise I will help your son, but the best thing you can do for Blaine right now is to wait for the people who are trained to help him. I promise, I will protect your son."

Joe nodded, and Payne silently slipped into the house.

The Anderson home was quieter than Payne expected. Forensics had been and gone, leaving the house much the way it normally was. Payne stared down the meticulously clean hallway, lined with pictures of Blaine Anderson from birth to the age of seventeen. Payne passed the pictures silently, barely glancing at the sixteen year old making goofy faces with a series of uniformed friends, and the beaming father holding a day old baby boy. Blaine was apparently born with a full head of black curls.

"One way or another, everyone's problems will end tonight."

Jeremiah's voice drove her to the top of the Anderson's staircase, but when she finally reached the top, the only person there was Blaine. It only took one glance to realize that there was something very wrong with the boy. There were cuts all over Blaine's skin; he was sitting in a puddle of broken glass and his eyes were dim.

A moment later, pain exploded in the back of her skull. Payne hit the floor and everything went black.

Payne woke up seconds later, but she knew enough to know that those seconds could mean life or death for her and Blaine. She leapt to her feet and reached for her gun…

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Jeremiah said quietly.

Payne looked up to see Jeremiah standing at the end of the hallway. His arm was wrapped around Blaine's chest, holding the boy in place. Payne gun was in his hand, aimed at Blaine's temple. "Mr. Wilson, you don't want to do this," Payne said, shakily getting to her feet. Her head was throbbing, made worse by the pounding of her heart. If this boy died in front of her, she would never be able to forgive herself.

"Oh, I think I do." Jeremiah sneered. "This little slut ruined my life."

Jeremiah had obviously lost his mind. The more he thought he was avenging a wrong against him, the sloppier he became. Perhaps if she played along with his delusion, she could get herself and Blaine out of this alive.

"I believe you, Jeremiah," She said. "But killing Blaine is just going to get you in trouble. Think about it. He's not worth losing your freedom."

She tried to ignore the way Blaine's entire body winced, the tears leaking steadily from his eyes. Jeremiah clutched him even tighter, moving his head to hiss into the child's ear. Payne winced; he was only a child.

"Hear that, Blaine? Not even the cop thinks you're worth it. I bet I could shoot you right now and she wouldn't do a thing. Let's test that theory, shall we?"

And then Payne heard a gunshot.

Jeremiah Wilson's death was far quicker than Payne would have liked. The man's eyes widened, he stared down at the gunshot wound in his own chest, and he collapsed. Payne looked behind her to see Joe Anderson standing behind her, a gun in his hand as he stared at the rapist's twitching body.

"You keep your hands off of my baby."

Sirens started behind them, Payne's backup finally arriving. Payne turned back to check on Blaine. And realized that her initial observation was correct.

There was something seriously wrong with Blaine Anderson.

"Blaine? Blaine, baby, it's over now." Joe took a step forward, and his boy flinched, throwing himself back against the broken mirror. At some point, Blaine had snapped under the terror. His huge hazel eyes glistened with tears, no recognition there, no relief. Only fear, pain, and pure desperation. Joe's expression froze. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"Please, don't!" Blaine shrieked.

"Blainey, it's me. It's Daddy. Everything's okay, what are you… No, no, Blaine, don't!"

Joe lunged forward, as his son threw himself at the gun on the floor. Blaine had the gun pressed to his head when his father reached him. Joe grabbed his son's arm and tried to force it away. The gun went off.

Blaine slumped into his father's arms, blood pooling from the wound in his stomach.

"Wha?" Joe paled dangerously, dropping to his knees, "BB, what did you do? No, come here, it's okay, it's okay. Somebody help!"

Payne ran to Joe's side. They laid Blaine out on the ground, careful to choose a spot not covered by broken glass. Payne grabbed the jacket lying on the floor and pressed it against the boy's wound. The boy's father pulled his son into his arms.

"Hey, hey, don't go to sleep," Joe shook his son back to consciousness. Blaine's head lolled in crook of his father's arm. His eyes, clouded with pain and confusion, focused on his father.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, Blaine, it's me. I know it hurts but people are coming to help you, okay?" The sirens were growing louder; the ambulance had arrived. Blaine coughed, flecks of blood shooting up to rest on his lips.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"What?"

"I'm sorry… for ruining your life and making you hate me."

Joe gasped in pain, "Look at me. Blaine, look at me. You didn't ruin anything, baby boy. I love you so much, and I promise everything is going to be okay."

"I love you." With those last words, the boy's eyes rolled into the back of his head and closed. His body went limp.

"Blaine? Blaine, no! Please no, Blaine! Blaine!"


	18. Blaine's Birth

_"Congratulations, you have a beautiful baby boy."_

_"A boy?" Joe spoke for the first time since the first cries broke through the delivery room. "Are you sure?"_

_The doctor raised an eyebrow and glanced down at the space where the baby's legs parted, revealing that he was indeed a boy. Joe looked himself and laughed with a sort of manic energy. Considering that he'd spent the whole delivery babbling like an idiot, April wasn't surprised._

_April heard the doctor's words, but somehow they didn't quite penetrate her skull. The idea that the pain and blood and agonizing pressure in her stomach could have anything to do with the squirming, wailing pink thing the doctor had just laid down beside her was unfathomable._

_April knew she was supposed to be feeling something as she looked at the tiny person that had just made his way into the world. He didn't look quite human. Long, thin, bony little fingers splayed out, searching for something to grip onto. Light fuzzy triangles above puffy eyes, and a shock of hair in black tufts, trying to curl and covering a head that was just slightly cone shaped. It was a tiny body – the doctors were worried that he might be premature for a minute there – but it was perfectly formed, with a steadily rising little chest complete with two little nipples and tiny lumps of soft baby fat for calves and thighs. She took it all in – the tiny baby feet, the small nose that looked just exactly like the one Joe had when he was a baby, the little soft lips that puckered out as the baby searched for something to suck on – but as hard as she tried, she couldn't seem to feel anything but relief that the pregnancy was finally over. He could have been anybody's baby; he certainly didn't feel like hers._

_Joe, meanwhile, was craning to look at the baby as though he was the first wonder of the universe. "Is he okay? Is he healthy?"_

_"Very healthy, Mr. Anderson," said a young nurse with brown hair and a sweet face, "What's his name?"_

_Joe suddenly looked as though he'd been scolded, "It was going to be Blair…"_

_Oh, yes. Blair Aine Anderson. The name Joe had picked out as the one true perfect name for their baby daughter. Little princess Blair; who would have April's blonde hair and Joe's brown eyes and would be the most beautiful thing on two legs and would rule her high school and have to beat boys off with a stick. Metaphorical boys of course, because Blair wouldn't date until she was thirty._

_April didn't get the appeal of it. To her, it just sounded like a cheerleader name paired with a weird spelling of Anya – to which Joe always replied that Aine was the Irish goddess of love and couldn't April learn about Irish culture just once – and Joe couldn't really control what their child would be like with a name. But to Joe, that vision meant everything, and it almost hurt to watch him stare helplessly at this little alien newborn with wild black curls and try to decide what to call him._

_"Well, how about Blaine?" April suggested. Joe turned to stare at her, something strange in his expression. "What? It's an Irish name, and it uses Aine, even if you don't say it like that." It was then April realized that this was the first suggestion for a name she had ever made._

_"Yeah," Joe said, his confidence slowly returning, "Yeah, his name is Blaine."_

_April looked from her excited husband to the squirming, still wailing bundle of baby fat on the bed beside her. "Do you want to hold him?"_

_"Can I?"_

_The sweet nurse smiled and picked the baby up, handing him to his father. Blaine's little arms jerked at the sudden movement, and his tinny cries grew even louder. Until he was safely in Joe's arms and Joe was cradling him like he was the most precious thing in the world. It wasn't until then that Blaine finally stopped crying. He sniffed, little nose leading the way as his hand flailed for something to grip onto and finally found the edge of his daddy's shirt._

_He opened his eyes._

_And April watched her husband fall in love._

_"Blaine." Joe said, but this time it was softer, gentler; a prayer. Blaine blinked blearily, made tiny, whining little noises that meant he was considering crying, then decided it wasn't worth his time and went back to staring at the giant who was cuddling him. "Do you know who I am, Blaine? I'm your Daddy. I've been waiting for you for so long, baby boy. I love you." Then he started kissing him, kissing all over the mottled pink skin that had just been cleaned of the blood and mucus from the delivery. Blaine shrieked with surprise, little limbs flying all over the place again. Joe took the bottle offered by the nurse – pumped breast milk, April refused to breastfeed and Joe refused to settle for formula – and gently placed it in Blaine's mouth. It took a few tries for Blaine to realize that this was food and latch on, but soon he was eating greedily, staring at the face above him to memorize where the food came from. "That's right; you eat up, baby boy. You deserve it, being born all by yourself like you did. So much hard work. You're so brave."_

_"What hard work?" April said, "I'm the one who opened the tunnel, he just slid right through." Joe ignored her._

_"Thank you for him, April." Joe whispered. " Thank you. He's so perfect. You're such a good boy. I promise that I'm going to love you forever, baby boy, and I am never going to let anything happen to you..."_

It's funny how that was the image that came to April's mind as she and the Hudmel's finally made it to Joe's house. The tears on Joe's face as he first fed their newborn son. The moment she realized that she would never convince him to give this baby up.

The ambulance was parked in front of the house when they arrived. EMT's were taking out a stretcher. On top of it was a body bag. Kurt Hummel let out a gasping sob next to her.

"Oh, honey, don't cry," April said frantically, "It's not Blaine; it can't be Blaine."

"How are you sure?" Kurt asked turning to her with eyes that were far too wide.

"Because Joe isn't next to it," April said. She knew her husband too well. "It would take a crowbar to pry Joe away from Blaine, especially if…" But April froze as a horrible thought hit her. The only way Joe would be away from Blaine at a time like this is if they both were… A sudden thought hit her, an image of Joe lying dead in that house. For a moment, April couldn't breathe.

She didn't breathe again until Joe appeared, running out the doorway of his house just in front of another stretcher. His shirt was covered in blood, his eyes fixed on the boy the EMTs were carrying.

April reached the stretcher and gasped. Blaine's face was twisted with pain, his eyes closed and his chest barely rising. She couldn't do more than glance over the wound in his stomach, but she knew it was bad. April suddenly felt a possessiveness rise up in her she didn't even know she was capable of, "Blaine. Blaine, wake up, honey. Wake up, right now."

She didn't expect it to work, but those eyes did slowly open. She gasped. He had beautiful hazel eyes; half hers, half Joe's. She felt the jolt in her heart she'd been waiting for, the tilt of the world's gravity as it came to rest around a new center.

Her baby.

Blaine blinked slowly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His eyes were fixed on her with a sort of weak concentration. Then he spoke, and froze his mother's heart with four carefully chosen words.

"Do I… know you?"

Kurt hit the other side of the stretcher and gasped. "Blaine, please, Blaine." Blaine looked over at him, puzzled until those eyes lit up with recognition.

Blaine smiled, "…Kurt…" And then he was gone again. The EMT's murmured something in hushed tones and moved even faster, loading Blaine into the ambulance in the blink of an eye. Joe grabbed Kurt's hand and pulled him into the ambulance as he climbed in. April wanted to beg them to take her as well, but she was still frozen by a horrible thought.

'He doesn't even know who I am.'

Carole and Burt came up next to her, all steady hands and offers to drive her to the hospital, but April couldn't answer them. She could only watch as the ambulance drove away, not coming back to reality until it was out of sight, carrying the most precious thing she had ever lost.

"Please save him," April whispered. "Please don't let him die without knowing who I am."


	19. Vivo

Kurt was there when his mother died. He never told anyone about it. Only his dad knew – well, besides Carole, maybe, but Dad told her everything – but Kurt was there. Kurt could still remember it, the way mother suddenly went just too still, the pain draining out of her along with the life. How confused and scared he was, because for all the warning he'd gotten, he still couldn't understand that she was dying. Kurt had tried since that day, but he had never been able to imagine anything worse.

This was worse.

Because he understood that Blaine was dying. Understood it in perfect clarity. There was no blissful state of ignorance, there was no, "What's wrong, Mommy? Are you sleepin?" Blaine's body was so still, a kind of helpless, forced stillness. Everything, from his pant legs to his eyelashes were covered with blood. There was even some peeking around on his back, and Kurt just knew that some of it was Jeremiah's. He was so sickly happy that Joe had shot him, because he deserved to die for what he'd done, but did Blaine have to get his blood splattered across his back like that?

Kurt wanted to scream at the EMTs to wipe the blood off him; didn't they know that Blaine had enough of that man's bodily fluids on him, inside him? Kurt shut his eyes tight and leaned into Joe, jolted by how hard the other man was trembling. Joe hadn't stopped talking, filling the ambulance with nervous chatter.

"Blaine, Blaine, baby boy, everything's going to be okay. He's gone, okay? He's gone and he can't hurt you anymore, so, please, BB, just… please don't leave me, I can't do this, please… Should he be bleeding this much? Why can't you stop the bleeding?" Kurt's heart clenched at the thought that this is exactly what Blaine would be doing, if the tables were reversed.

Kurt remembered first meeting Joe. It was at a Warbler's concert, the first one Kurt had gone to as a spectator. His dad had dragged him off to a corner to introduce him to a huge man sitting awkwardly on an aisle.

_"This is Joe," Dad said solemnly, "We're going to be sitting next to him for the concert. Go on, introduce yourself."_

_Kurt shook the man's hand, "It's nice to meet you." He had the oddest feeling he was being measured, the man's deep brown eyes roaming over him with an odd, calculating look. There was something vaguely familiar about him, something Kurt couldn't quite place. But then the announcement came from Thad to stop mocking them and take their seats._

_Kurt stole sideways glances at Joe throughout the performance. The man's eyes never left Blaine, which made sense, given that Blaine was the lead singer again. But the expression in them was odd. It wasn't until Joe leaned over to them and said in an awed voice, "He looks just like his mother," that Kurt understood._

_He sat in shock while Burt smiled back and said proudly, "This one takes after his mother. I'm grateful for it every day, but sometimes I think it would be nice to see a little of me in him, you know?"_

_The Warblers finished their set to thunderous applause, Blaine bowing quickly before looking for Kurt in the audience. He caught sight of his boyfriend and beamed. He ran over to them. "Hey, Kurt, weren't we great? I did that thing you told me to do, did you see?"_

_"Your dad is here," Kurt said. Blaine froze._

_"Oh. Hi, Daddy."_

_"Blaine." Joe nodded and lifted his arms for a hug. Blaine stood next to his father, and Kurt could see clearly that they were related. Same nose, same jaw, same broad shoulders tapering into the same small waist. They even had the same bright eyed, humble, eager to please expression. "That was a good show. I liked what you did with your shoulders…" Joe gave a half hearted shimmy for effect._

_"Kurt thought of that," Blaine said._

_"Oh, good job, Kurt," Joe said._

_"Thanks."_

_They had dinner afterwards at Blaine's house. Joe was a very good cook, and when Burt mentioned that Kurt could cook as well, Kurt happily agreed to help Joe with dessert._

_"So, you're my son's boyfriend," Joe said._

_Kurt felt a twinge of disbelief. It was still hard to believe that Blaine – beautiful, confident, adorable, sexy Blaine - was his, and his first instinct was to say that Joe must have him confused with someone else. Kurt blushed, "I am."_

_"I need to talk to you about something," Joe said, setting the knife down next to the strawberries he'd been chopping._

_"Of course," Kurt said._

_"Blaine is my only child. My baby boy, my reason for getting out of bed in the morning. And I have to admit, the thought of him dating a boy is a little hard for me to swallow."_

_"Mr. Anderson, I respect that, but Blaine being gay is - "_

_"-Is not the problem. The problem is that you are a boy who is trying to romance my kid. And as such, we need to have a man to man talk. Let's cut to the chase here; you seem like a nice boy. I like you, I like your family, I'm legitimately comforted by Blaine's choice of boyfriend. But you need to know that he is my baby boy. And if you lay a fingertip on him in a way he doesn't like, I'll cut it off. Same with any other part of your body that touches my little boy without his permission. And if you hurt my little boy, I will take you out. Am I clear, here?"_

_"Crystal."_

_Joe beamed, and Kurt realized with a dull sort of terror that Blaine had inherited his father's smile. "Perfect. Now let's get this dessert on the table."_

Kurt realized now that Joe had been perfectly serious. Officer Payne slipped into the waiting room quietly to inform him that Jeremiah's death was a clear case of defensive shooting. Joe could site reasonable panic for stealing an officer's gun. Joe nodded, barely listening to her, his eyes locked on the door to the operating room, where they'd taken Blaine.

Kurt's phone rang constantly, New Directions kids and Warblers asking if Blaine would be okay. David, Wes, and Thad showed up to wait with them, the Warbler council sitting silently across the room. Dad, Carole, April, and Finn showed up just after they did. April kept trying to catch Joe's gaze, but he stared down, fingers crushing Kurt's. Rachel showed up, sitting next to Finn wordlessly, her lateness explained by a pan of Get Well Soon cookies cooling beside her. The only other New Directions member to show up was Quinn.

"I heard about what happened, and I thought…." Quinn bit her lip awkwardly, "I can leave if you want me to."

"No," Joe said. "Stay. Thank you for coming." Quinn sat down and took Joe's hand, the one that wasn't crushing Kurt's. They waited until the doctor came out, her scrubs pristine and her face tired and apprehensive. She said only two words.

"He's alive."


	20. Promise

Joe sagged in Kurt's hold. He and Quinn held Blaine's father up as he regained sense of himself. "He's going to be alright?" Joe said.

"We've managed to repair the damage and replace the blood Blaine's lost. There's still the possibility of infection, and we currently have Blaine sedated. The damage done to his internal organs by the gunshot wound was extensive, but we believe he should heal within the next few months."

"Can I see him?" Joe and Kurt asked in near unison.

"We'll allow his father some time alone with the boy first." Kurt caught April out of the corner of his eye. She looked up, opened her mouth and then closed it again. Joe spoke.

"His mother is here, too," Joe said. His voice was heavy, and he made a vague gesture with his arm to where April was sitting. April's mouth fell open again, and she blinked hard before standing up and rushing to follow Joe into the room. "His boyfriend, can he…"

"We'll allow Kurt in next," the doctor promised, "Seeing someone in this condition can be difficult, especially a child, and for safety reasons, we allow close family the chance to get used to it first. I will personally let Kurt in to see him in a few minutes."

Joe nodded, and followed the doctor down the hall. Kurt watched after them, silent and still. The doctor seemed kind enough, and he would get to see Blaine soon. All the same, Kurt felt like he was about to lose control of himself at any moment. Rachel walked over quietly, and wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

"It'll be okay," She promised. "Blaine will be fine."

"Will he?"

"Of course he will," Finn said, "The doctor said…"

"The doctor said he'll heal physically," Kurt said, "But what happens then? Is he gonna run off and get raped again? Or taken or hurt? Is he going to shoot himself again? I just keep getting promised that he'll be okay, and then just when I feel like I can breathe again someone else waltzes in and hurts him. I can't keep doing this, I can't - "

Kurt's father's arms replaced Rachel's, and Carole replaced Finn. Kurt held tight to his parents. He didn't cry; he refused to let Jeremiah take that dignity away from him. Kurt just breathed, feeling his chest tighten with each breath, feeling the fear strangle him.

"Is it okay if I talk to Kurt in private?" Burt said. Quinn, Rachel, and Finn stood up to walk away, Carole didn't move, knowing the way she always did that Burt needed her there too. "How are you feeling, kiddo?" Burt always called Kurt kiddo when he was worried about him. Kurt remembered laughing with Blaine about their fathers; while Kurt was slugger or scooter or kiddo, Blaine was always baby boy or BB or Blainey boy.

"When I'm sick, it's like he forgets what my name is supposed to be," Blaine had said.

Blaine's laughter echoed in Kurt's head. Kurt pushed it away, focusing on his dad. "I'm feeling like my heart's about to leap out of my chest."

"I understand that," Burt said, "I just want to make sure you're safe. I know things have been hard for you. It's not worth hurting yourself over."

So that's what he was hinting at. "Blaine's not worth hurting myself over?"

"What that psycho did to him," Burt said, "That monster is not worth your safety, Kurt. I just… Blaine is such a strong kid, and seeing what Jeremiah got him to do to himself… I know you're strong. But I'm a little worried, that's all."

"I'm not planning on hurting myself, Dad," Kurt said.

"Okay, that's good. We wanted to talk about something else, then," Burt said, "Kurt, you're probably going to be the only member of our family allowed in there. We need you to do something for us. No matter what happens… don't leave Joe alone with him."

"What?" Kurt said, "Dad, you don't honestly think that Joe would do something to hurt Blaine."

"No, of course not. We know he would never hurt him, it's just… Carole?"

"Kurt, sweetheart, there are a lot of risks to a surgery like this, even when the patient survives. Blaine could have brain damage from the blood loss, infection. Your father and I are worried that if Blaine… if something happened to him and Joe was alone in the room…"

"You think he'll hurt himself," Kurt said.

"That boy is everything to him," Burt said, "I know what that's like, you know, kiddo? When your kid is the only thing you have left in the world. If something happened to you now, even with Finn and Carole I'd be devastated. Back before them, when you were the only person I had, I don't think I'd be able to think straight, you know?"

"We just don't want anything more to happen to this family," Carole said.

Kurt probably should have felt a heavier weight on his shoulders, knowing that if it really came down to it, he couldn't stop Joe from doing anything he wanted to do. Joe was 6'1", 218 pounds, more than willing to kill if he had to for his son. Joe believed in God, in an afterlife, and if he wanted to join Blaine there, Kurt didn't think he would have any power against him. Kurt should have been terrified.

But instead, Kurt felt powerful. He couldn't do much for Blaine, but he could keep his dad safe.

"I'll protect him," Kurt said.


	21. Awake

"I remember when he was a baby."

April watched Joe glance up at her, and then go back to praying over their son's body. Blaine breathed slowly and in time with his heartbeat. April still felt a tiny jolt, looking at her teenage son. April didn't feel old enough to have a teenager. Then again, she'd been young when she had him.

Now that he was older, April was shocked at how easy it was to see the family resemblance. Blaine mostly took after his daddy, with a thick neck and shoulders and the same nose. Joe's ears, Joe's lips, Joe's forehead and chin. The dark, thick, curly hair Blaine had inherited from Joe's father. Blaine's skin was a light, golden tan, reminding April that Joe's grandmother was from the Philippines. He had April's cheekbones. He was built like his mother, small and thin.

April winced as she tried to picture her tiny son fighting Jeremiah. How easy it must have been to overpower him. How scared and humiliated he must have been. It figured that the one major trait Blaine took from her only hurt him in the end.

She wanted to apologize for that. She wanted to scoop her baby up in her arms and hold him and tell him that it would all be okay. April wasn't sure when her feelings began changing; when the sight of a baby being pushed down the street in his stroller filled her with a dull sort of ache. When Will told her that his wife was expecting and April felt the phantom weight of an infant in her arms. It wasn't until she came back to Lima and saw those precious, perfect eyes and her whole life had shaken apart, revealing a core that she had never recognized for what it was.

"I remember that he cried almost constantly," April said, "At least, with me he did. I tried to calm him for hours, but he just kept crying. And then you would walk through the door and pick him up and that was it. You always knew how to make everything better."

Joe was silent at first, and April thought he was ignoring her; then, "Babies aren't that hard to please."

"Yeah, but you always knew exactly what to do," April said, "You would walk through the door and say, 'April, he's hungry. Have you fed him?' and I would feel so stupid."

"What are you doing, April?"

"Remember when you switched him to formula? The face he made at you was the funniest thing I'd ever seen. He was… three months old, I think."

"Yeah. Remember when he got lost at Disneyland when he was three? Or how about that time when he was 13 and he fell through some loose ice in the lake? No? Well how about when he was five, and he came home sobbing because he spent all day at school making a mother's day gift, and he didn't have a mommy to give it to?"

April winced, "Please."

"What, I thought we were playing the memory game here? I just have an advantage when it comes to that particular game since I didn't leave when he was four months old… I was so angry with you, April. Still am."

I didn't understand. I was young and scared, and you were always so good with him. He always cried - "

"- He cried because he was a baby who didn't understand why his mother didn't love him- "

"I want to fix it, Joe. I want to be there for him."

Joe sighed heavily, "What is this, April?"

"I'm ready now. I wasn't before."

"Is this a joke?"

"Of course not…"

"Some method acting bull - "

"He's my son, too! Can't you just accept that?"

"No, I can't," Joe said.

"Ummmm, Joe?"

Kurt Hummel stood at the door, his sweet face unsure. "Come in, Kurt," Joe said gently, and Kurt dived into the room, rushing up to Blaine and taking his hand.

"Hi, Blaine?" Kurt cleared his throat, "It's me, your boyfriend, Kurt? I … I love you."

April, Joe, and Kurt sat and waited with him until visiting hours are over, Kurt mostly chatting to Blaine about things he clearly didn't care about and Joe silently holding Blaine's hand. Occasionally Joe would glance at her, eyes hardening or softening or simply searching, trying to figure out what she was trying to do with his son. After visiting hours, Kurt begged the two of them to come stay at his house.

April lasted on the lumpy hide-a-bed in the Hummel's living room for about twenty minutes. Everyone else had gone straight to bed, but she kept tossing and turning. She had insisted that Joe take the guest bedroom, and she was beginning to regret it. She always slept better with a warm body; perhaps she could sneak in and slide into bed beside him. He would be pissed when he woke up, but April wasn't the best at thinking for tomorrow. April crept upstairs and silently opened the guest room door.

She found Joe sobbing into his pillow. He was silent, but there was no mistaking the way his shoulders shook, or the soft, snuffling breaths he tried to sneak in.

"Joe," April called quietly. She shut the door behind her and walked to the bed, pressing her hand against his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. The damn pillow just smelled like Blaine, and I - " Joe took in a long breath, and stared around the room with wide eyes, "This is where he slept… I should have protected him, April. I should have been there."

"I keep telling myself the same thing," April said.

"I'm sorry. I've been awful to you. I didn't think you were good enough for my boy, but who am I kidding? I'm the worst father Blaine could possibly have."

April knew better than to contradict Joe when he got into one of his moods. She thought for a moment on how best to approach him, "You remember that blonde girl in the waiting room?"

"Yeah."

"Her name's Quinn Fabray. I met her while I was… getting my high school diploma. Head cheerleader , prettiest girl in school, blonde, brown eyed… she kind of reminds me of Blair."

"Who?" Joe asked distantly.

"The daughter you thought we'd have? Blair Aine Anderson, remember? You talked about her constantly while I was pregnant. How she'd be beautiful, like I was? She did remind me of myself. Pregnant at sixteen. Her father had kicked her out of the house when he found out. And I couldn't help wishing that she had been born to you. You would never have abandoned your daughter that way. You would have made her feel loved and safe, helped her with the baby. That's what makes you such a great father, Joe. You're loyal to your child, no matter what."

April fell asleep with her ex-husband's arms around her. She forgot how warm and firm his body was, and she fell asleep peacefully, despite everything else, for the first time in months. The next morning they dressed, silently, and went back to the hospital. For the next several days, they spent all day with Blaine, and slept intertwined in the Hummel's guest room at night. Kurt was always with them, talking to Blaine or watching over Joe. Kurt had dragged Joe to the cafeteria for lunch when it happened.

Blaine's hand twitched in hers.

April watched as Blaine squirmed softly, as he opened those heartbreaking eyes and trained them on her.

"Who are you?" He slurred softly. April smiled, hiding the pain behind carefully crafted joy.

"I'm your mom."

When Joe returned, April was holding her son, pressing his face into her shoulder and kissing his exposed cheek as gently as she knew how. Joe simply nodded.


	22. Baby of Mine

_April walked through the door of her apartment to snuffling and soft, fretful cries. She sighed heavily, turning the corner to see Joe pacing across the kitchen floor. The baby was curled up in Joe's arms. He looked miserable, black curls plastered to a red little face. Occasionally he let out a stuffy, plaintive cry. April frowned. The baby wasn't usually like this. With April, he cried and thrashed, soundly and with energy. With Joe, he devoted all his time to staring up at his father's face. He had recently mastered waving his little arms and smiling, and he took to practicing those skills while his father cooed and congratulated him. April had never seen the baby like this, little eyes dull and nose red, hanging limp in his daddy's arms._

_"What's wrong with it?" April asked._

_Joe jumped, finally taking his eyes off the baby, "Blaine's sick. He's running a fever and his nose is stuffed up. Shhh, baby boy, shhhhh…." The baby, upon hearing his symptoms, finally began crying in earnest. His father's face was tight with worry as he bounced and soothed his son. "I called the doctor, but they said it's nothing to worry about. I gave him some Tylenol, but, April, he's sick…"_

_Joe looked close to collapsing. He grabbed a bottle from the countertop and pressed it to the baby's mouth. The baby choked and whined, trying to turn away. Joe set the bottle back on the counter, biting his lip and sighing helplessly. April stepped forward._

_"I'll take the baby," She said._

_"Really? A-are you sure?" It was a testament to how exhausted Joe was that he didn't try to argue with her or give her a million instructions. Before she was really prepared for it, her arms were full of an overly warm baby and Joe was cautiously heading to bed._

_Blaine sniffled through a stuffy nose, looked up at her face, and began wailing all over again. Blaine, like most infants, had spent the first three months of his life learning that certain sensations were linked to certain people, and certain people were linked to how he felt. The firm, warm arms and heavy fresh scent, the large, broad face that cooed and kissed him meant food, comfort, and protection. The thin, shaky arms around him now meant yelling, rough treatment, and insecurity. So he cried, hoping that the safe comfort would return._

_April didn't know this. She didn't know that she could stop the crying simply by holding him tighter and kissing him. She didn't know that if she sang, Blaine would fall silent and stare at her, entranced by the music. She didn't know any of those things, so she rocked him desperately, her movements growing rougher with each passing second until Blaine was wailing and she was screaming desperately, "SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"_

_"April, STOP!"_

_Joe snatched the child out of her arms, cradling Blaine firmly to his chest. He stared up at April with something very much like horror._

_"I-I didn't mean to," April stammered._

_"You were shaking him," Joe said, barely audible over Blaine's wails, "You could have hurt him, you could have killed him!" April tried to reach out to Joe, but he pulled back, "Don't, April. Just don't."_

_Joe retreated into their bedroom, leaving April with a dull sort of shame. "I didn't mean to hurt him," April whispered, "I didn't. I just wanted him to stop. I don't know why I get so angry at him, why I can't love…"_

_April trailed off. Joe wasn't listening to her in the slightest. She walked over to stand in their doorway, watching as Joe rocked the baby on the edge of their bed. Soft strains of song came from her husband's lips, directed at their infant son._

_"Baby, mine, don't you cry. Baby, mine, dry your eyes. Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine…"_

_Dumbo. Blaine had the little elephant in a mobile over his crib. April watched as her son's crying faded, the baby's eyes focusing on his father. Soon Blaine was cooing and smiling, fascinated by the sounds washing over him. Joe trailed off and sighed, "He loves music. Of course, I can't sing very well. Not as well as his mother."_

_"Joe…"_

_"He needs us. If we aren't there to give him food, shelter, love… he won't make it. If we aren't there to take care of him, no one will be. For the first time in my life, I have someone who needs me."_

_"I need you, Joe," April said._

_"Don't make this a competition," Joe said. "If you make me choose between you and Blaine, I'll choose him. I will always choose him." Joe lay back, taking his son in the crook of his arm, curling Blaine's tiny body in the most comfortable position he could manage. Blaine sniffled and sighed, pressing a wet little nose to his Daddy's arm and squirming a little, trying to get comfortable. Joe fell asleep to his son's soft, warm breath against his skin._

_When he woke up, Blaine's fever had broken, and April was gone. Joe sighed, tears starting in the corner of his eyes. He would probably have been useless if his son hadn't woken up and yawned, large eyes searching for his father. He was hungry, so Joe warmed up a new bottle and fed him._

_After all, if Joe wasn't around to take care of Blaine, no one else would._

_..._

"Are you feeling okay, BB?"

Blaine's eyes darted up to his father, and back down again. "I'm feeling fine." Joe wasn't comforted. Ever since the nurse mentioned a tiny infection in one of Blaine's wounds, Joe had been hovering over his son, panicking over the slightest hint of illness.

"Are you sure?" Joe shifted on his feet, then reached forward, "Here, just let me check-"

"Don't." Blaine jerked away from Joe's hand, his eyes locked on the sheets below him. Joe didn't resist, but April saw the pain in his eyes as he pulled his hand away. April reached forward with her hand, placing it on Blaine's forehead.

"He's warm, but it's nothing to worry about." April looked up and realized she'd made a mistake. Joe's eyes were filled with pain, his mouth tight. Kurt stepped forward, away from Blaine's bed. He didn't try to touch Blaine; days of rejection had beaten the impulse out of him.

"Come on, Mr. Anderson. Let's get something to eat." Joe followed Kurt out of the room, leaving April and Blaine alone. Blaine didn't say anything, his eyes darting to April and back down again. He bit down on his bottom lip, but didn't say anything.

"Hi," April said. Blaine didn't answer, but his eyes flickered back up to her. "I'm April, I'm… I gave birth to you."

"I know."

"Your dad says that you're part of the choir at your school. Do you like music?" April asked. Blaine nodded, "I like music, too. Do you want me to sing to you?"

"Please."

Thirteen songs later, Blaine's eyes were drooping. Ten songs after that and the boy was asleep. April reached out her hand, sliding it across her son's cheek. The skin wasn't the way she remembered it; it wasn't smooth, supple, unbearably soft baby skin. Blaine wasn't a baby anymore. April felt a cold shiver of shame cut down her spine. She decided to walk outside to get some air…

And ran into Joe on her way out.

"Where's the kid," April asked.

"Went to the bathroom," Joe said, "Probably crying his eyes out. He tries to pretend it doesn't get to him, but I can't imagine what he must be going through."

"He's a good kid," April said.

"The best. As if I'd let my baby date any less," Joe said. Joe's eyes followed the same nervous pattern as his son's, flickering to April's face and then back to the floor within a few seconds. "How is Blaine?"

"He's asleep," April said.

"Is his fever down?"

"Not by much. About earlier, Joe, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stepped on your toes like that."

"I just don't know why he'll let you touch him, and not me," Joe said. He sighed, "This just won't end. What this monster did to him, it's still hurting him. And if I don't figure out how, I may never be able to hold my son again."

"I'll try to talk to him, tomorrow. Find out why he's like this," April said. She didn't know why she promised it; Blaine had barely said a word to her since he'd woken up. But she had to promise something.

Joe gave her a long, paralyzing look. "Thank you," Joe walked past her, leaving April frozen in the hallway. It wasn't until she heard Joe start singing that she began travelling to the door. April stood in the doorway, watching her husband. Joe sat on the bed, fingers carding through his sleeping son's hair. The words coming from Joe were trembling, slightly out of tune.

"Little one when you play, don't you mind what they say. Let those eyes sparkle and shine, never a tear, baby of mine…"


	23. Joe's Revenge

April was not an early riser. Joe was gone from his side of the bed when she woke up. She walked downstairs to sit with Carole and Burt at the table; she ate a few waffles and tried to make small talk with the family. Kurt and Joe had already gone to the hospital together. April got into her car and drove, silently, to the hospital. She walked through the double doors, saw her mother standing at the front desk, and sighed.

Mother turned around and stared at her, zeroing in on her daughter's presence the way she always did. Mother's sparse blonde hair was arrayed in thin ringlets around the top of her head. She was dressed smartly in lime green from head to toe, lime green shadow smeared heavily over her wide set blue eyes. Father stood at her side. April's dad was a foot shorter than her mother, but he always seemed much smaller, with his twitchy pencil mustache and large, watery brown eyes. April's mother seemed to pull him along with her as she swept up to April, her mouth widening in a false, unnatural grin.

"Dear."

"Yes, Mother?" April didn't pretend to be happy to see her mother, didn't fill her voice with the fake cheerfulness her mom always adopted.

"I've been waiting for you," Mother said. April could see her hand inching toward the pocket of her lime green vest, where she always kept a packet of cigarettes, even as her eyes locked on the "Please, No Smoking" sign over the entrance. "There must be some sort of mistake. These people are refusing to tell me where Blaine is staying."

"Oh, that's not a mistake," April said, "I asked them not to do that."

Mother did not seem surprised, but she pretended to be, her blue eyes bugging out of her face. She let out one offended bark of a laugh. "You mean to tell me that I am… forbidden to see my own grandson while he's in the hospital?"

"Yes, actually. Joe and I have talked it over, and we don't want you near Blaine."

"Well, it sounds like you two are becoming… quite the little team." April braced herself for biting words, but it still sent a twinge through her when Mother said, "Do you honestly think he'd have anything to do with you if it weren't for the child?"

"Being vicious won't get you - "

"Oh, but darling, I'm not being vicious. I'm telling the truth. Joe Anderson used you to have a child. You know that, don't you?" April's mother smiled at her, smile widening at April's frozen expression. "He used you to have that child, and then he twisted that child to the point that he honestly thinks he's in love with his little friend Kirk-"

" – Kurt - "

"Let us take him to New York, April. There, we can get him in touch with people who can fix what Joe Anderson did to him, people who can make him normal. He can live a normal, happy life with his real family, and you'll get to see him every day. Now doesn't that sound nice?"

"Hey."

April spun away from her mother to see Joe standing beside them, drumming his fingers along the tight ceramic counter in a way that would have been casual if it weren't for the tight expression on his face.

"Hello, Joseph," Erin Rhodes extended a hand, which Joe promptly ignored. The hand dropped to her hip, then to the cigarettes in her pocket, "I was just explaining to April why she should allow me to see Blaine…"

"Oh, really? Well, why don't you run your argument by me?" Joe asked. Erin opened and closed her mouth silently. "What's the matter, did you forget? Okay, then. April did tell you my reasoning, didn't she? I must have forgotten to give her my message, anyway… I want you to stay the hell away from my child."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, you're right. I want you to stay the hell away from my child, you vindictive bitch."

April was filled with an irrational desire to kiss Joe passionately. April's mother swelled up like a balloon.

"How dare you, you ill-mannered-"

"Now, see, I spend a lot of time talking to Burt Hummel. Burt told me about how you told my child I paid to have him raped, and how you terrorized him so badly that he ran away and nearly got himself killed just to avoid living with you."

"I don't know what you're talking about - "

"Look, I know what kind of woman you are. You're a big woman and you've spent your life surrounding yourself with people who are smaller and weaker than you are. You terrorized your husband, you terrorized your daughter, and now you want my son so you can have a fresh young victim. And I can see how you would target Blaine; he's physically small, innocent, trusting, and traumatized by what's happened to him. But Blaine has something the rest of your victims didn't. He has me," Joe rose to his full height, towering over Erin, "And I'm bigger than you are."

"I am so unbelievably turned on right now," April said.

"Blaine's asleep in his room. If you want to go talk to him, it might be good to be there when he wakes up."

"Yeah..." April walked away.

"April! April!" The staccato tapping of her father's footsteps stopped April in her tracks. She turned around quickly, trying to keep her dad from seeing where she was headed. "April, thank goodness I caught you."

"Yes, Daddy?" April asked.

April had never hated her father the way she did her mother, and with good reason. Craig Rhodes was gentle, sweet, and battered to the point of terror by his wife. He'd never done much to hold Erin in check, but he'd never encouraged her either. He stood in front of April, hands twitching together.

"I-I just wanted you to know that your mother and I really do care about Blaine."

"I can't let you see him," April said.

"No, I know, I know, I just," Craig began rummaging in his ripped up old canvas bag, "I heard that Blaine liked music, so I got him this." Craig pulled out a book and shoved it into April's hands. It was a book of sheet music, filled with popular songs, "Will you give it to him?"

"Of course," April said, swallowing around a lump in her throat, "I think he'll love it. Thank you."

"I love you, April bear."

"I love you, too, Daddy."

And April turned away, leaving her father standing in the hallway. She turned to make sure he wasn't following her as she walked into the elevator and shut the door behind her. She came out on to Blaine's floor and walked into his room.

Her son sat on his hospital bed. April wasn't sure whether he woke up as soon as his father left or if he'd been pretending to sleep, but he was definitely awake. "Hi, Blaine," She said. Blaine nodded, but didn't say anything. "I have a book for you. It's from… here."

Blaine stared at the cover, his lips twitching into a small smile, "Thank you."

"Okay," April said. "… Look, Blaine, there was something I wanted to talk to you about. It's about your dad, and me, and…" She reached out, taking Blaine's hand in hers. "Can I ask you a question?"

"… Can I ask you a question?" Blaine asked.

"Of course."

"Did you leave my dad because of me?"


	24. Princess

"Did you leave my dad 'cause of me?" Blaine asked. Mother was silent. "He loved you; I know he did. He kept that ratty old bathrobe years after you left. He sometimes cried about you, when he didn't think I could hear him; he probably cried about you a million times when I wasn't around. If I'd never been born, would you still be together?"

"... Yes."

The word came out of her lips with pain, hers and his. Blaine shut his eyes, tears dropping into his lap, "Oh."

"Look at me, h-honey." Honey was never a name his Daddy would have used for him, yet the tone in her voice was unmistakable. Parent. Blaine obeyed her, looking into her glassy blue eyes. "It wasn't your fault. I talked to a psychiatrist a few years ago, he thought I was suffering from post postpartum depression after I had you. I wasn't in my head, I was always sad and angry, and sometimes I thought about hurting you. I had to leave to protect you. But I was wrong..." The tears broke free, sliding down her cheeks, "I was wrong, and I love you and I am so, so sorry..."

"Did Daddy love me?" Blaine asked, his own voice cracking just a little bit. Had anyone loved him?

Mother laughed, "Nobody ever loved a child the way your daddy loved you. He still loves you, I promise, Blaine, he does. All he wants is to hold you... why won't you let him?"

Ice filled Blaine's chest.

"I can't," He said.

"Nothing bad would happen," April said softly.

Blaine shook his head, his breathing speeding up, "I can't; he'd know, he'd know what he did to me..."

_"Blaine, what the hell is going on?"_

_Jeremiah leaned forward, crushing Blaine with his body. Blaine felt a sharp poke in his side, and realized with another spike of terror that Jeremiah had a _knife_. Blaine whimpered._

_"You say anything, and I'll kill you," Jeremiah whispered. Blaine trembled and started crying harder. "What's the matter? Why are you crying, you little wimp? Stop it."_

_But Blaine couldn't help it. Everything hurt; his wrists were screaming at him, punishment for trying to get away. The pressure of the knife point was tearing into his side, the various aches and pains where he'd been hit and scratched moaning in unison. And over it all, a sharp, twisting pain at his center, inside him, where Jeremiah had forced himself into his body._

_"Alright, then, boys," Daddy's voice said. Daddy, where was Daddy? Blaine wanted him right now. "I'll let you have your fun. But I want you downstairs as soon as you're finished, you understand me? Blaine, you and I are going to have a serious talk about this."_

_It wasn't until Daddy's footsteps sounded in the hall that the reality crashed over Blaine. His Daddy was leaving him. Jeremiah leaned forward, "See? He's disgusted by you. He doesn't love you. Nobody loves you." And he started moving again._

_The pain inside of Blaine roared back to life. Blaine started screaming; he couldn't help it, he was sure he'd die from the pain. He didn't want this. He wanted Kurt, he wanted Daddy, he wanted his Daddy right now. Why did Daddy leave him?_

_"Stop screaming," Jeremiah grunted, the knife pressed harder against his side. But Blaine didn't stop, Blaine didn't care anymore. He wanted to die. "Stop!" Jeremiah pressed a hand to Blaine's throat, started pressing down, choking off Blaine's air. Blaine's vision started to go fuzzy, he couldn't breath, he was dying. He didn't care. But if he didn't care, why was he still so scared? Jeremiah lifted his hand, letting Blaine breath, then shook his head, pressing back down. Jeremiah did this for what felt like hours, years... deciding to kill Blaine, then panicking at the last moment. Finally, he finished and left Blaine there, spitting on his face and whispering, "You wanted this. Don't you tell him that you didn't want this."_

_He dressed quickly in new clothes, using a wet wipe to scrub Blaine's insides off of him. Blaine could see his own blood everywhere but he was too dazed to think through what that must mean. He listened to Jeremiah's footsteps, listened to the low sounds of him talking to Dad. Why was Daddy just talking to him? Why wasn't he coming to save Blaine; couldn't he see what Jeremiah had done, what he'd taken from him?_

_"BLAINE!" There was Daddy, but he didn't sound worried. He sounded mad._

_"You get down here right now, young man!" Didn't he know Blaine was tied up? Did he think Blaine could walk right now? Blaine knew he couldn't. He tried to lift himself anyway, and screamed at the stabbing the small movement gave him. He tried to breath in, but he was crying and everything was wet and it was like someone had draped a wet cloth over his face. Blaine panicked, tried to scream. He was scared; he didn't want to die, he didn't want to die..._

_Daddy was still yelling at him, saying words that sliced through him like a knife._

_"I can't believe you would do something like this, Blaine. Do you think Jeremiah cared about you? He was just down here calling you a slut! That's the boy you chose to give your virginity to? What about Kurt? You do realize that you cheated on him just now? I don't know if he'll even stay with you once he finds out about this. I have never been so angry with you, Blaine, or so disappointed. What on earth where you thinking?"_

_Kurt. Kurt was going to break up with him. Blaine was beyond pain, he was beyond everything. His vision was starting to go fuzzy and everything hurt and Daddy was actually _mad_ at him and he just wanted everything to stop. Blaine sniffled air in as best he could and screamed._

_"Blaine? Blaine, what's going on? Are you hurt? Open the door. Blaine, can you hear me?" It was too late, Blaine's vision was going. He was dying, _please no, Daddy, please don't let me die. I'm scared. _Blaine started sobbing, and suddenly it was Daddy that sounded scared._

_"Blaine! Are you okay? Please, son, just unlock the door and we'll figure this out, I promise. Blaine! Blaine!"_

"Blaine? Are you okay?"

April was hovering over him, trying to keep his pale, clammy hand safe inside hers. Blaine took a deep breath, shaking the images out of his head. He tried to put new images in their place; how when he woke up, he could breath and Daddy had been there, how Daddy had saved him. How gentle his father's hands were when they grabbed his ankle and cut through the ropes tying him there, how careful they'd been when Dad lifted him and carried him out to the car. But Blaine could barely remember that version of his father, he'd been in so much pain, so confused and woozy.

Sometimes, without any provocation at all, Blaine thought that Jeremiah was the only thing he would see, the only thing he'd ever be able to see. Blaine's mother sat next to his bed, her beautiful face worn by worry. She reached out and touched him; Blaine wondered dully if she could feel how empty he was inside.

"I'm fine," He said, "I'm fine."

Another hand pressed against his back, and he jerked away, still determined, Daddy couldn't know. He relaxed when he saw Quinn behind him, her face tight as her hand made tiny circles against his skin.

"April, why don't you go sit out with Joe?" Quinn suggested, her high voice strong. April hovered, her eyes darting from Quinn to Blaine, then bolted; the attempt at motherhood had drained all her resolve. Blaine sat in silence, Quinn content to sit beside him until he wanted to speak.

"I don't want them to touch me," Blaine said.

"I know."

Blaine bit his lip and turned away, "Nobody will listen to me. I don't want them to know..."

"Blaine, I know how you feel," Quinn said.

Blaine froze. It was the first time anyone had told him that. But Quinn didn't say anything, rubbing her hands back up his back. She stayed at the top portion, not drifting anywhere near the place where no one could touch him, not anymore. "What do you mean?"

"I know what it's like to be raped."

Blaine turned around to lock eyes with her, and knew from their expression that it was true. "When?"

"When I was a little younger than you are now. The year before I got pregnant, I went to a cheerleading retreat. He just crawled into my tent. He told me that I was fat and no one else would ever want me, and that if I screamed, he would kill me right then and there-" Quinn broke off, and her hands stilled.

"Did it hurt?" Blaine whispered.

"Of course it did," Quinn said. "It hurt, and I spent the next several years telling myself that I was fat and worthless. I didn't tell anyone, and I didn't want Finn to touch me for months after that. I didn't want him to know what I was inside. Blaine, I know every little thing you're feeling right now. I know what you're telling yourself, and I know that it's not true."

"It's true," Blaine said.

"It's not."

"It is!"

"... Blaine, have you even looked at all the cards everyone's been sending you?"

Blaine glanced over to the pile sitting by the window. He shook his head. Quinn stood up, walked over to the pile and picked up the nearest one.

"'Please feel better, Blaine. I don't know you very well, but I know that you're loved very much, and I hope you feel better soon.' That's Tina. 'Hey, dude, you're totally awesome at singing and I was really bummed to hear that you were in the hospital. Get better.' Puck. 'I'm really sorry about everything you've been through recently. You're a really great person, and you have a talent second only to my own. I hope you enjoy my gluten free soy milk get well cookies.' Rachel, obviously. Almost everyone in Glee club sent a card. Of course, most of these are from Kurt. 'Blaine, no matter what, I love you. You're the other half of me, and knowing that you're hurting so much kills me. I'd do anything to make you feel better.' 'I miss your smile. I wish you knew how perfect you are, and how much I love you. I love you. I love you, Blaine. I will always love you.'" Quinn paused and put the card down, "Well, you can read the rest of Kurt's letters yourself."

"Does everyone know?" Blaine asked.

"Just Kurt, me, Santana and Brittany. Santana's dad is one of your doctors, and she knew I would want to talk to you... She wanted to come see you herself, but after what happened at Surridge, she didn't want to make you uncomfortable. Brittany sent you a card, and a picture. I think Santana helped her write the card, because it's not all in text abbreviations."

Blaine took the picture, read the card, and began sobbing.

'Dear Blaine,

Santana says that a boy made you have sex with him, and you didn't want to. She says you're sad. It makes me sad that you're sad, because I like to see you when you're happy. I'm sorry that he made you have sex with him, because people shouldn't have to have sex with people they don't want to. Kurt is sad because you're sad, and that makes me sad, too. Kurt loves you a lot. He thinks you're really beautiful, just like Santana thinks I'm beautiful. I used to think you and Kurt were unicorns like Santana and me, but after I saw you with Kurt I realized that Kurt was a prince and you were a princess. But now Kurt's princess is locked herself in her tower, and Kurt is really sad without you. You should let Kurt save you from your tower. It would make him happy and then you would be happy.'

Blaine pulled out the picture, a crayon drawing of a blonde unicorn and a dark haired unicorn with Brittany and Santana's faces pasted onto them. Blaine and Kurt were riding on their backs, Blaine in a carefully drawn rainbow dress. What looked like a pile of rocks lay behind them with the caption 'Tower'.

Quinn's eyes widened, "I'm really sorry, Blaine. Brittany didn't mean to offend you, she wasn't trying to call you any names, she's just-" But Blaine shook his head. He sobbed out two more times.

"I want my Daddy and Kurt. Right now."


End file.
